


Love Without Doubt

by Renai_chan



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alpha!Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Felching, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Light D/s, Moresomes, Mpreg, Non Consensual, Orgy, Pegging, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, a whole lot of other kinks, omega!Tony, spoiled!Tony, whump!Tony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is kidnapped and, months later, the rest of the Avengers are captured by the same people when they try to rescue him. When SHIELD gets them back, they’re forever changed and bonded.</p><p>Based off of this kink meme prompt:<br/> <br/><i>Tony is the Avengers' sub and omega. He may snark all he wants, but at the end of the day, he's happy to get down on his knees and please his masters and mistress.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Bonus points for:_   
>  _* A consensual gangbang of Tony by the team_   
>  _* The team spoiling Tony in small ways: Bruce being careful with Tony even after being transformed into the Hulk, Steve being a gentleman even after banging him into oblivion, Thor affectionately calling him "svass" (Old Norse for "beloved"), Natasha being very brusque but gentle in her own way, Clint teasing Tony back and forth but reminding Tony who's in charge_   
>  _* Tony getting pregnant and the team not caring who the father is, but collectively treating the baby as theirs_
> 
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> 
> There's already an existing fill for this, but I couldn't resist coming up with my own 'coz the prompt is awesome, and there cannot be enough OT7 and omega!Tony in this fandom. This is my first foray into MPreg, but I believe every author has to try it at least once in their lifetime.
> 
> Still a WIP so I wasn't planning on posting it yet (I have a tendency to flake on long, chaptered fics :S), but I'll try not to and I'm hoping that a finish line (13 chapters roughly) and the pressure of a deadline would motivate me to complete it quickly.
> 
> JFC, sorry for the long note. And sorry for the short first few chapters. I cannot plot and story backgrounds bore me a bit, and these first few chapters are exactly that. I promise to write longer ones when the main event happens.

Anthony Edward Stark was one of the most formidable people on the planet, and scant few could match up to him in any single way that defined him.

 

He was intelligent. With an IQ that was well within the top 1 percentile of the population of the entire planet, he’d entered MIT at fifteen, graduated with master’s degrees in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science by nineteen and earned two more master’s degrees in Business Management and Political Sciences in the succeeding five years, during which time he had also taken over as President of Stark Industries from his late father. More than that, most of the products generated by Stark Industries in the last twenty years, especially those that were most successful: bombs, missiles, military paraphernalia, cellphones, computers, cars, green energy, had been conceptualized, designed and built by him thereby launching the company into the forefront of most industries and directly contributing to the modernization of the human race.

 

He was rich. Stark Industries had become a household name after retiring from weapons manufacturing when they entered into communications technology. Among other successful products, they engineered many of the newest and most in-demand features of cellphones, making Starkphones some of the most sought-after products in the world and putting them well ahead of competitors like Apple and Nokia that had been in the industry for decades. And with the latest clamour for environmental consciousness, Stark Industries is also the leading pioneer of green technology, from industrial arc reactors replacing nuclear powerplants, to household appliances that consumed less power than ever before. As the majority stockholder, Tony reaped the benefits of SI’s success.

 

He was charismatic. Some would argue that he was nothing but a drunk, playboy, capitalist scumbag and would lambast his name to any who would listen and devalue his contributions to society. And while they would have been right once upon a time, it was clear that they had never met Tony Stark because he could, with a simple smile, have any hapless fool swooning on his or her feet, with a handshake, have businessmen and senators alike making promises they would do everything and anything to keep and, with a word or two, have the devil himself selling his soul to him.

 

He was Iron Man. He built a miniaturized arc reactor in a cave with a box of scraps while his chest was gouged out and his heart hooked up to a car battery. He created the most advanced armour the world has ever seen with scavenged bits and pieces while under the guise of making missiles for terrorists. He jetsetted around America (and sometimes the globe) with a ragtag group of superhumans to save the lives of helpless civilians from forces the local government could not handle on their own. He was the brains, the money and the face of the group that had captured the hearts of millions of people the world over. He was a superhero. He was a saviour. He was… He was…

 

He was an _action figure_ , for Chrissakes!

 

“Look, I understand the whole… you know… _thing_ you’ve got going on here because I mean, yeah. Tony Stark,” he said as the men around him secured the perimeter, made sure the ropes around his feet and wrists were done up well and tight, and _ignored him_ —oh, that just wouldn’t do. “No, seriously, what is it? Are you holding me for ransom? For my brains? For my body? It’s ransom, isn’t it? Yeah, I bet it’s ransom. But you’d do better with the brains bit, just so you know, because hello? I’m still speaking, and you should know that if you’re going to kidnap Tony Stark, the first thing you should do is gag him because I could talk anyone to death. Really. Literally.” He paused. “Well, not literally. That’s still debatable, but Clint has a going bet that I _could_ talk someone to death. There hasn’t been any chance to test it out, you see, because we’re superheroes and aren’t supposed to go killing people for fun, but he’s pretty damn sure of himself, and it wouldn’t be a good idea for you if he was right. It wouldn’t be good for me either because he’d be unbearably _insufferable_. And why aren’t you listening to me? Hello! Genius speaking over here!”

 

All he got from the kidnappers was silence, so he readied himself to launch another spiel until someone took to notice him because maybe that way he could do something about it rather than sit around and wait for his rescuers to arrive, which was probably the worse option because Clint would be so insufferably smug about his getting kidnapped the one time—the ONE time—he elected not to have his suitcase armour on him. Stupid stupid stupid! Before he could speak, though, another person cut him off.

 

“It’s everything _but_ ransom, actually, Mister Stark,” said person drawled, and Tony had to twist his neck to see someone saunter down the stairs from a doorway cloaked in shadows. It was so unbelievably clichéd that Tony was sure this villain had time travelled from the forties where such a scene was still considered cool and mysterious. Tony’s hypothesis was further tested as said villain was revealed by the light, slowly from the feet, up, to be wearing what seemed to be a leather trench coat with a design that evoked little of Nick Fury and more of an uptight Nazi loyalist. Said hypothesis was further confirmed as the villain stopped just as the light was about to reveal his face, and Tony could see nothing but the swastika-shaped buttons on his neck. He couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes.

 

“Nazis,” he spat with a sneer that distorted his face. Teeth glinted from behind the shadows. “You do realize that Hitler had lost the war, his supporters and most of his dignity in the 40s, right? Nothing you and your pathetic little group could possibly do could bring his ideals back.” There was a chuckle.

 

“You misunderstand the symbol, Mister Stark,” the man explained. “Adolf was an incredible man, but rather short-sighted when it came to the things that really mattered. As such, I have long since lost any allegiance to him. This,” he tapped the swastikas on his clothes. “Is a symbol, not of Adolf Hitler, but of _power_ , of superiority. _This_ is a symbol that invokes the loyalty of people who matter and fear in those who do not.”

 

“And disgust? Who does it invoke disgust from?” Tony asked. He sat as though he was bored and indifferent, despite the restraints that held him, but the question seemed to be the right one because the man stepped out of the shadows to reveal who he really was. Tony recognized him instantly, and his jaw dropped in shock.

 

“Why, from those who must be punished, Mister Stark,” Johann Schmidt declared and nodded his head in a clear signal. Tony felt a needle stab into his neck and lost consciousness seconds later.


	2. Chapter 2

“A week, Captain Rogers.”

 

“Miss Potts—“

 

“It’s been a solid _week_. How hard is it to find a man of Tony Stark’s fame using every resource, every bit of intelligence and skill at your disposal? If this goes on any longer, I _will_ be assuming that SHIELD no longer cares for the search and retrieval of Mister Stark, and as such, I will be pulling all Stark Industries funding and proprietary equipment from SHIELD, _permanently_ , and conducting a search and rescue operation of my own!” Pepper snarled, slamming her hands down onto the table before her. Happy, from his position beside the door, shifted his stance in what was obviously a repressed need to calm the redhead down. “I understand, Captain, that you and Mister Stark have your differences, but that aside, not even you can question the necessity for SHIELD to find him.”

 

“Miss Potts—“

 

“In _fact_ , I am borderline _insulted_ that I am not speaking with the director himself about this issue. Mister Stark is not only an unquestionable asset to this organization, but his loss is also a liability for any secrets that SHIELD wants to keep. Secrets that I will assure you will be divulged should you fail to find him soon.”

 

“Miss Potts!” Steve and Pepper’s conversation came to an abrupt halt as Nick Fury came striding into the meeting room where Pepper had overtaken the team debriefing. Steve stepped aside rather quickly, but Pepper’s fury was unfazed as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared Nick down. Clint let out a low whistle of admiration and ducked quickly when several glares landed on him. “Miss Potts, your cause for concern is not unfounded, and I will be the first to admit that, yes, getting Stark back is paramount to the interests of SHIELD, which is why every available resource we have, the entire Avengers team included, is devoted to this very purpose.

 

“However, we are not omniscient, Miss Potts. Those who aim and _succeed_ in kidnapping someone as high-profile as Tony Stark are very, very good and very, very well prepared. Missions like this are never destined to be easy or fast, as you should very well know.” He paused, but quick enough not to give Pepper the chance to butt in. “Now, if you have any information or any resource that you can offer to assist in our operation, I would like for you to let us know. Our combined efforts will be much more effective than any independent search party.” Pepper held his gaze for a few more moments before dropping her arms and drawing herself up to full height, which, admittedly, between Nick and Steve, wasn’t that very tall at all but was certainly impressive nonetheless.

 

“Director Fury, I have put every resource, available or otherwise, of the entire Stark Industries global empire at your disposal when, where and for whatever purpose you see fit to find Mister Stark, and I know for a _fact_ that this is considerably more impressive than all your own resources and that of the government’s combined. Now, if your organization is not _competent_ enough to find my employer using everything that you have, I promise you that I will use everything at _my_ disposal, every cent, every contract, every favour, every ounce of leverage to take you out of your office, exile you to Antarctica permanently and take over this operation _myself_. And trust me, Director, I _always_ deliver on my promises.” With that, and a last glare at Steve, she strode out of the door in an impressive exit.

 

Nick waited for the door to shut behind Happy before he turned to the team.

 

“Updates. I want updates, Coulson. Where are we on finding Stark?” he asked. His tone was brisk and hard, but those who knew what to look for heard underlying tones of wariness. Pepper was a formidable woman; that much was clear.

 

“We have witness accounts of sightings of Stark in airports all over the country from the day after he was taken. Twenty three exactly, that all happened at roughly the same time, indicating the use of doubles. Facial recognition software on the CCTV footage and civilian pictures and videos identified them all positively. They all departed the airports via private plane to these points here,” Phil gestured to the projected world map with twenty three dots of lights over different continents and countries.

 

“Facial recognition software?” Nick asked, surprised and not a little bit offended. Phil smirked.

 

“Standard police procedure. We have something more sophisticated than that,” he brought up the images that witnesses and CCTV supplied, one for each location where Tony was seen. “Stark’s own detection software eliminated nineteen of the twenty three doppelgangers by using not only better facial recognition software, but also by matching body language and other nuances unique to him.” Nineteen images dimmed. “These four were on their way to the following locations.” Nineteen points on the map dimmed.

 

“And have we searched these areas?”

 

“SHIELD dispatched units as soon as the results came in to infiltrate local government and scour the areas to look for further clues.”

 

“Local airports?” This time, Phil grimaced.

 

“All four planes landed on time at their destinations. None of them contained any of the Stark doubles. No matches for CCTV or civilian devices either.” Nick frowned.

 

“And the companions of those four?”

 

“No matches either.”

 

“Flight logs and airport paperwork?”

 

“All accounted for, paper-wise.” Nick waited for the explanation. “All men, doubles and companions, were missing. Footage from the airports shows the correct number of people alighting from the aircraft, all with correct documentation, but none of them match the initial results from Stark’s software.”

 

“And what have they said on the matter?” Nick asked because of course he expected that those people had been apprehended, detained and questioned by SHIELD. No one in the organization would be sloppy enough to let this go uninvestigated.

 

“Nothing,” Phil answered. Nick’s eyebrow shot up, and he turned to Natasha. She, more than anyone else in the entire organization, should have been able to wring a confession out of any suspect; if the interrogators hadn’t succeeded, she should have been called in to deal with the matter.

 

“They’re dead,” she answered.

 

“All of them?”

 

“Pilots and co-pilots for twenty of the aircrafts were killed. All four passengers on the suspect planes committed suicide as soon as they were apprehended. Passengers of the remaining sixteen landed planes have disappeared before they could be questioned and the three other aircrafts have crashed. There were no survivors.” Nick said nothing, but the heavy silence was telling: seventy four dead, all in exchange for one Tony Stark.

 

“Do we have any clue who it is?” he finally asked. Knowing who the enemy was was half the battle won.

 

“We have a pretty strong lead,” Phil answered. “Hydra.” He glanced toward Steve for the explanation. Nick crossed his arms and sat on the conference table casually, belying his inner turmoil. Having Hydra active again would be complicated at the very least, downright dangerous if any of its leaders were as competent as Johann Schmidt had been, deadly if Schmidt himself had come back from wherever the fuck he had gone for the last few decades after the tessaract had disappeared him, as Steve had reported. After all, Red Skull also had a prototype version of the serum in him; it wasn’t farfetched to think he’d come back to life the way Steve had.

 

“It was how those sixteen men killed themselves, sir. I’ve seen it before,” Steve said. “They bite down on a false molar that conceals a pill of cyanide which poisons them. All agents I’ve encountered, to the best of my knowledge, have it.”

 

“And this is not a copy-cat organization?”

 

“We’re still investigating, sir.” Nick stood.

 

“Check the bookings of those planes. Find out the names, affiliations, family, everything you can learn about those agents. Search all twenty three planes for fingerprints, missing inventory, discarded prosthetics, fucking used tissues if you must. I want to know who we’re dealing with and why.” Phil nodded an affirmative before Nick left.

 

………………

 

Pepper signed the last piece of paperwork on her desk, a renewed contract for security software with a medium-sized company, with a small flourish and took a moment to critique her signature before setting the contract aside with a care that she had to force herself to exert. Even her own simple action made her shut her eyes in concealed anger; it was too… too happy, too beautiful, too proud, too _positive_.

 

Nothing had the right to be positive with Tony gone again.

 

A ragged sigh left her, the only betrayal of her outward calm because if she betrayed it anymore, even in the confines of her own private space, she couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t scream and cry and rage until Tony was back.

 

It had been not even two years when they got him back from Afghanistan, not two years and he was gone again and this time with no trace, no clues, no demands, no _nothing_ —nothing for nine weeks now except fear and worry and despair. She had stormed into SHIELD two months ago, determined to get him back that very week, come hell or high water and made damn sure that they were on the same page as she was.

 

Rhodey had been a near constant presence at her side since Tony disappeared, having put in his resignation unless the military accepted his indefinite Leave of Absence (the military wasn’t stupid—if Rhodey left, everything good that came with War Machine would too. No one could pilot it like Rhodey could because Tony made sure of that, and no one could repair or upgrade War Machine like Tony could because he made sure of that as well, after the initial fiasco with Hammer). The two of them spent all their free time calling up favours and brainstorming and _finding_ him; there wasn’t enough time for sleep, food or comfort, just a burning need to get him back.

 

But so far, everything had been to no avail.

 

She had gathered up all her files and set them aside, opening up her desktop to start her search anew when the phone rang.

 

“ _Miss Potts_ ,” came a familiar British-laced voice.

 

“Hello, JARVIS,” she answered politely, but her heart was suddenly rabbiting in her chest. She approached JARVIS the day they confirmed Tony was kidnapped to enlist his help in finding him, but she had already been too late as the AI had begun his own search. Instead, he promised to update her as soon as he had any substantial leads.

 

“ _I may have information that will interest you_.”

 

………………

 

“JARVIS has been looking through every live feed and stored footage of every camera on Earth that can be accessed via satellite ever since Tony was reported taken,” Pepper said to the group that consisted of Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Hulk, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, Rhodey and Happy. With a tap on her tablet, the projector above them instantly flickered to life and projected an image of the world map. They were in the same briefing room they had been in when she threatened to kick Nick out of his office two months ago; it had turned into a sort of command central for the operation of finding Tony.

 

“Make no mistake: he operates at inhuman speeds. For any regular person, or organization even, this would have taken years upon years… decades maybe. That he managed to find any clue within two months is inconceivable.” Faces on most were blank in concentration; Bruce was faintly impressed at the enormity of that thought. “But then again, without his creator around, he has little purpose, will or task to do anything other than find him.” She paused to tap on her tablet. “He found approximate matches for Tony’s facial features at these points here.” Several dots appeared on the map, clustered within the middle of Mongolia. “These were accessed through stored—“ She suddenly swallowed. “Stored images on smartphones of several personnel in a facility. No other information could be found on what the said facility is, though.” Phil was already on the phone, barking orders at the person on the other line to prep the Quinjet and other necessary items.

 

“We’ll need access to the images, of course, Miss Potts,” Natasha said. To this, though, Pepper suddenly hesitated; fear, worry, sadness and anger suddenly evident on her face.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I… You don’t need the images to find the place, I’m sure. If JARVIS was unable to find anything, it would be unlikely that you could.” Her nervousness was palpable.

 

“Miss Potts,” Steve tried. “Natasha, Clint and several other operatives here in SHIELD have experience I’m sure JARVIS does not. They could be able to find clues he couldn’t in the images he gathered. Any information would help us extract Mister Stark more easily.” Pepper looked to Rhodey, then to the tablet in her hands. It was a long while before she spoke.

 

“Tony wouldn’t want you to see,” she said, her voice quiet. Glances were exchanged as most, if not all of them, confirmed within themselves the implications of her hesitance. Steve stepped closer to her and touched her arm.

 

“Miss Potts,” he said. “You, nor he, need fear anything from us. He is our teammate and we will do everything to keep him from any pain, physical or otherwise.” Pepper seemed to swallow her doubt before nodding and handing over the tablet to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimentation and explicit rape in this chapter. Be forwarned.
> 
> Please also note that I know _nothing_ about medicine and other related sciences. Everything written here about experimentation is purely imagined and anything medically valid is purely accidental.

He had woken up of his own accord, blinking groggily a few times before a sudden violent wave of nausea overcame him. He turned his head to the side, the most movement he could command his body to make, and retched nothing but a scant amount of stomach fluids and saliva again and again and again, crying out at the first stroke of pain that began in his stomach and back and radiated throughout the rest of his body and moaning at the subsequent ones. When his stomach settled and the pain died down, he blinked away the involuntary tears and noted that his abdomen was thickly bandaged beneath his hospital gown and blanket and the rest of his body firmly strapped to a hospital bed, something he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for or not because every small movement sent jolts of intense pain throughout his body, indicative that he had a major wound under the bandages and no painkillers to numb it. He learned to stay still after the first few minutes, but refused to remain inactive.

 

He turned his head slowly and deliberately to survey his surroundings before, more tentatively, himself.

 

The room itself was almost barren and closed, although it wasn’t small. Only a door connected him to the outside world and, if not for the fluorescent lighting, it would have been pitch black. Inside the room was just himself, the hospital bed, a security camera and the various machines that were attached to him, beeping his vitals merrily to anyone who would listen. Most of them he could identify as standard hospital equipment, some of them for ICUs.

 

He wondered (hoped) if SHIELD had managed to take down Schmidt and rescue him while he was out; he wouldn’t put it past Fury to tie him down after all the times he’d escaped from medical before he was cleared for discharge. There was no one to ask, though, not even Pepper or Happy who were almost always present when he found himself in a hospital. His gut clenched at the implication of the thought, but he forced himself to ignore that despair and observe the equipment he wasn’t familiar with.

 

One of them held three bags of drips that all coalesced in one tube that was attached to the inner elbow of his left hand, as opposed to the IV which was attached to his right. The machine that regulated the drips showed a ratio of 1:2:1 for the bags; which was for which, Tony wasn’t sure. The bags were blank, making it impossible to find out what they contained and were all nearly drained. Tony had to wonder how many had been emptied into him already or, more importantly, _why_.

 

Another wave of nausea overcame him and he had to heave again, the pain from his wounds increasing tenfold this time, so he couldn’t control the weakness of moaning out loud.

 

The pain subsided soon enough, and when it did, he tried to look for some way of calling for someone, a nurse button or an intercom or something. Failing to find any, he tried calling out, “Hey! Anyone out there?” instead, but pain bloomed violently in his abdomen when he spoke too loud, so he shut his eyes, focused on breathing and prayed that he was at SHIELD Medical after all.

 

It was a few hours—hours which he spent alternating between heaving and trying to design circuitry in his head—before someone came in. It was a nurse, small, young and pretty, but rather severe-looking with her crisp white dress and painfully tight bun. Tony sent her his most charming grin, one that he had used on Natasha which earned him a glare that meant she was a little less likely to kill him violently in his sleep; it was one of his most effective smiles.

 

“Hey, sweetcheeks,” he said, his voice a little above a whisper. She ignored him. “Is Nick around? Mind getting him for me? I have a little issue to take up with him about his excessive use of restraints.” She barely even glanced in his direction, instead methodically changing out the empty drips one by one. “Okay, I understand; I _suppose_ he could be busy from time to time. How about Coulson? At the very least, I expect him to be ragging at me for a debriefing.” Nothing. “Rogers?” Still nothing. “Anyone who speaks English?” The nurse picked up her equipment and walked back toward the door; she didn’t even look at him. “Wait!” Tony yelled in a desperate bid for information and then he winced loudly. “Wait, please.” The nurse turned to him, her expression emotionless and disinterested. “Where am I?” he asked. She turned right back around and shut the door behind her.

 

………………

 

Wave after wave of nausea assaulted him at irregular, erratic intervals, but none more than fifteen minutes apart. He counted the seconds between each one because there was little else for him to do; every thought, every idea, every concept in his head was stifled by his bouts of sickness and pain.

 

The same nurse had come by four times since then to change out the three bags, which he determined to drain out about every six hours, and an orderly had come by once to change out his sick-sodden sheets and catheter bag and leave a small receptacle for subsequent retching. It was a small comfort in light of his two most immediate problems, the bandages and medication and the lack of information on where he was and why he was there, but he clung to it like a lifeline to keep from going mad. Hydra still had him—that much he was sure of because SHIELD, sadistic as they were, would not have kept him in the dark about his situation—but not knowing for what purpose he served them was maddening.

 

He heaved again, whimpering a little at the now-familiar stomach pains, and when he was done, titled his head up and shut his eyes to stave off the threat of tears of despair.

 

………………

 

The door opened again, and Tony, his eyes still shut, ignored it. It had been somewhere around a week since he had first woken, and he had learned by then that the people coming in would not talk to him, so he revolted by ignoring them as well, for all the good that that did.

 

So imagine his surprise when a voice said a pleasant “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark.” He whipped his head toward the door and saw a man, not old, but somewhere in his late forties, in a lab coat and glasses walk toward him, almost casually, bearing a clipboard and followed by the nurse. His hair was blond, his face long and he was so, so very familiar…

 

“I know you,” Tony murmured, his voice pathetically hoarse from disuse. It was telling that he spent minutes racking his brains, trying to think of who this man was when he could usually recall minute, insignificant details at the drop of a hat. In the end, it was the man himself who reminded Tony.

 

“Dr. Curtis Connors,” he said, holding out his hand to shake before stopping with an “Oh. Right.” He wasn’t even being insulting, just absent-minded.

 

“From Oscorp. You were working on the lizard thing,” Tony said absently, trying hard to remember details. He hadn’t met Dr. Connors personally, but he made it a point to learn what his business rivals were up to. “You didn’t have an arm.” The polite smile from Dr. Connor’s face dropped.

 

“Yes. The… lizard thing,” he confirmed icily. He took a look down at his clipboard and consulted some of the machines.

 

“So are you here to tell me what’s going on, doc?” Tony shut his eyes because he’s _so tired_. The doctor paused at his side and looks down at him.

 

“Not today, Mr. Stark,” he said, and Tony tried not to despair at the answer. Dr. Connors set the clipboard down on the bedside table and pulled up Tony’s hospital gown. The billionaire didn’t put up a token of protest— _couldn’t_ put one up—and then the doctor was peeling back the bandages that were wrapped around his midsection. He and the nurse methodically removed them, making Tony wince when they tugged off a scab.

 

“How’s it looking?” Tony tried again.

 

“It’s healing well,” Connors answered absently, as if talking to himself rather that answering Tony’s question. He scribbled on his clipboard while the nurse cleared away the soiled bandages and Tony looked down to see two neat lines, perpendicular to each other in the shape of an upside down “T” just above his groin. Each line was about six inches long and Tony had a brief, passing thought of C-section scars. Connors prodded the skin around the wounds, asking Tony how it felt, and Tony answered calmly and truthfully even though he wanted to scream that this wasn’t a fucking hospital and Connors should stop treating him like a willing patient.

 

Some of the straps were loosened enough so that he and the nurse could roll Tony onto his side and pull off more bandages from his back. When Connors was satisfied, Tony was rolled back and the straps were tightened again.

 

“You’re doing very well, Mr. Stark, better than I had hoped. You should be proud of yourself,” Connors said with a genuine smile, and Tony was so, so confused. “We can take these out to begin with the tests,” he then said to the nurse, gesturing to the mystery drips.

 

“What tests?” Tony asked.

 

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Why don’t we give you something to keep you relaxed?” It was rhetorical, apparently, because he was already being injected with what was sure to be a sedative. But Connor’s face was so warm and comforting, such a sharp contrast to the silent nurse and orderly, that Tony ignored the injection and spent the last few waking minutes staring at him in wonder. And then his vision blacked out and all thoughts of Connor’s face left him.

 

………………

 

The first thing he noticed when he woke was that the lights were much, _much_ brighter than usual.

 

The second was that he was naked and face-down on a padded bench, the upper half of his body resting on top of it, the lower half of his body kneeling on the ground. His arms were stretched over his head, firmly strapped, from his wrists to his shoulders, down onto the same bench, and his legs, from his knees to his ankles, were secured to railings about a foot out to either side of him.

 

The third thing he noticed—and this realization slammed into him suddenly, taking up the thought process that should have been devoted to freaking out about his compromising predicament—was that his cock felt heavy and hard, hanging between his spread legs, and that his blood felt like it was simmering beneath his skin, making him feel hot all over. He shifted minutely and gravity tugged at his cock, causing him to gasp at the sensation and the goosebumps that ran along his skin.

 

It was painful, in a way, because usually when he was this hard, he was gratified by a hand or a mouth or, at the very least, the cloth of clothing or bedding caressing him, not air. In an unconscious effort to normalize the situation, he tugged at his bonds and moved his hips in search of much-needed friction, but the bench was too far up his stomach and there was nothing else beneath him to rub himself off on. He groaned and whimpered, settling for the jolting tug of gravity as a poor substitute for the friction he wanted as his hips pumped into empty space.

 

It was only later that he realized he wasn’t alone in the room when he heard steps circle from behind him, to the front, and he scented a strange aroma around him—it was difficult to explain, but it was scaly, if scaly had a scent. He lifted his head with much difficulty to see Connors observing him quietly and taking down notes on his clipboard. Tony’s forehead was sodden with sweat, and he had to struggle through his lusty haze to ask, “Why?” Connors ignored him this time, all trace of warmth and familiarity gone as though it had not existed in the first place.

 

Tony hated himself at that moment. He hated that he was naked and spread out like a whore on display. He hated that he was so needy and desperate that he was thrusting his hips against nothing. He hated the simmering feeling under his skin and the sweat beading above it. He hated that he wanted so badly for someone to touch him. He hated that he wished Connors would be warm and nice to him again.

 

“Please.” He couldn’t deny that he was begging, but for what—for relief, for compassion, for freedom—he wasn’t sure.

 

“Bring in test subject Alpha5-15,” Connors only said to someone behind Tony. The billionaire shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the soft surface of the bench. He didn’t dare think beyond the next five seconds before him because if he did he would go mad, he was sure. Instead, he thought about how far along SHIELD was in finding him and if JARVIS had made his own progress. He mentally berated himself for being so _stupid_ and being so damn overconfident about the Iron Man that he refused to have any sort of tracker embedded in him. He wasn’t a dog and no one is stupid enough to go up against me, he had thought then, and yet now, JARVIS could have found him in an instant if had had it.

 

He was so involved in his thoughts that it was a second too late when he realized that “test subject Alpha5-15” was grasping at his hips and pressing his nose to the back of his neck, inhaling deeply. His vision swam at the touch of the hands on his hips, the press of the thighs against his thighs, the slide of skin against his back, but most especially the smell of the other man’s arousal and the press of a cock against Tony’s ass. He pressed back involuntarily before he remembered himself, but the other man had already lined himself up.

 

The breach of his cock was not slow. It was not hesitant. It was not careful. He thrust in viciously and _took_ and didn’t care that Tony was screaming beneath him. The genius struggled out of his grip and bucked to toss him off, but the restraints kept him pinned and the most his scrambling did was make the other man growl and bite down onto the back of his neck.

 

“Stop!!! Stop please!” Tony yelled through the confusion between _want_ and protest, through the thrusts that broke him open and punished and punished him. The teeth on his neck broke skin as he thrashed, but the other man did not stop, did not pause. He plunged repeatedly into the tight, sopping hole, focused singularly on “ _mine_!” Tony buried his face into his arms and sobbed and screamed and begged until it seemed the other man had reached his peak and stopped abruptly. It seemed to be over as quickly as it had begun.

 

The other man’s breathing was harsh and loud, but he did not pull out. Despite his anguish, Tony felt the cock in him grow and grow, pushing against the walls of his ass, filling him, and when it pressed and crowded his prostate, he couldn’t help the wail that escaped him as he came hard onto the floor.

 

His vision dimmed for what seemed like an hour but was really only a few seconds as his brain seemed to reboot itself.

 

“Stop. Please,” he tried again weakly against the tiny, tiny thrusts of the other man in him, but he was ignored.

 

For all of the thirty minutes that the man was pressed in him, was kissing the skin of his back and neck, was growling in his ear that Tony was “mineminemine,” he gave into sobs of humiliation and misery. And then the test subject was tugging himself out, with a difficulty brought about by the strange swelling of his cock. Tony jerked when he tugged himself out completely with a silent “pop,” but otherwise remained motionless. Perhaps pretending to be dead would convince his brain that he should be.

 

………………

 

“His body refuses to accept Alpha5-15’s seed.”

 

He woke to Connors talking with someone by the door of his room, their words soft but clear. He ignored them anyway and kept his eyes stubbornly shut despite the images that ran clearly behind his eyelids. After two weeks of lying on the bed and doing nothing else, he was used to those images; he couldn’t help but be because he couldn’t get rid of them no matter what he did, though that wasn’t much really. He tried to forget them and he tried to think of something else, but frankly, the memory of one’s rape would stand at the forefront of one’s mind in the absence of things to do or other things to think about.

 

And there were a lot of memories to choose from.

 

He had been strapped to the bench for a solid four days, and Alpha5-15 was locked in the room with him, taking him whenever he wanted, however he wanted. Three times a day, someone would leave food and water which Alpha5-15 had this tendency of forcing Tony to consume it. Tony refused, repeatedly, but the other man would threaten him and snarl at him until he did. And Tony _just wanted it to all STOP_.

 

When Alpha5-15 was taken away, and the simmering under Tony’s skin disappeared, he was sedated and taken back to his room where he spent the next two weeks thinking... thinking... _thinking... thinkingthinkingTHINKING_.

 

“We’re going to try Beta3-20.”

 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

 

………………

 

“Beta3-20 has failed. We’ll move on to Sigma7-04.”

 

………………

 

“I tire of these failures, Connor.”

 

“I can only hypothesize, sir, that it is because they are forced onto him that his body prevents the success of these tests. Perhaps if he were a willing participant...?”

 

A pause.

 

“Very well.”

 

Tony would never choose, never be willing. _Never_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this fic is so dark. I don't generally write dark fics (though I love me some whump!Tony); I much prefer happy, funny fics. Oh well. I'm happy with this anyway, and it's going to get a lot lighter once they're saved.

“The building is listed as abandoned, and satellites cannot pick up any activity in it,” Phil started, gesturing to the blueprints projected in front of the Avengers and Pepper and Rhodey. “That doesn’t, of course, include beneath the building which is where we are expecting Hydra to be operating anyway. There are three main entry points here, here and here.” He circled the northern, southern and eastern faces of the building with a laser pointer. “And one above, here, but if we avoid these altogether, we can probably get by undetected.” Clint snorted.

 

“Probably?” he asked. Both Phil and Natasha levelled a glare at him.

 

“We are anticipating a hostage situation since they have Mr. Stark, so our first plan of attack is stealth.” Half of the projection switches to a map of Mongolia. “All five of you will be deposited here at Bugant, Selenge where you will make your way southeast to the complex. At two-fifteen in the morning, Natasha will enter from the Western side of the building where we anticipate there will be fewer security measures than the other sides. From there, she will find her way to the lower levels and will locate Mr. Stark. Once she has secured his safety, Clint, Thor, Steve and Bruce will proceed with the extraction.

 

“Bruce will provide distraction here at the southern face of the building moving eastward. The rest will come down from above, straight down into the lower levels. Thor and Steve, you two will be expected to provide an exit if none can be found.” Both nod in understanding. “Clint will provide cover. Rendezvous will be five miles southeast of the facility at the northern face of the Burkhan Khaldun where I will be waiting with the Quinjet. Thor will take Natasha and Tony, and Clint and Steve should hitch a ride back with Hulk.” Bruce looked wary about putting too much faith in his alter-ego, but let it go; Clint and Steve had more experience than him in dealing directly with the other guy anyway.

 

“I’ll come, too, with the War Machine,” Rhodey said, and Steve looks tempted but shakes his head.

 

“Sorry, sir, but no. We haven’t fought with you, haven’t trained with you; we don’t know how you fight, how you act, not they way we know each other,” he answered.

 

“I can provide air support outside, distraction or, at the very least, a lift towards the rendezvous point.”

 

“I understand your concern for Mr. Stark, but there are sure to be issues we can’t foresee right now, problems that will force us to play by ear. We can’t risk the op because of poor team integrity.” Rhodey’s face pinched, but Pepper put a hand on his arm and he nodded to the silent message. Phil turned from him and back towards the rest of the team.

 

“Other questions?” he asked and none responded. “We leave at fifteen hundred.”

 

………………

 

It was really too easy and that was what should have tipped them off. However, Natasha was the best at what she did, so they didn’t question the fact that she had found her way inside, followed the stairs down three levels and located the room that held Tony in such short order.

 

It was easy enough to find him. She stole into the security room housed at the very foot of the first stairwell, took out the agents monitoring the cameras and found the camera that showed Tony strapped into a hospital bed, asleep. From there, she made her way further down toward him, the only close call, really, being when two agents had passed through the hallway she was in, and she’d had to take them down and hide their unconscious bodies. After that, it was child’s play for her.

 

She picked the lock easily enough, only pausing to frown at their sheer stupidity of relying on standard door locks rather than the computerized locks she had grown used to picking, and entered the room, readying her communicator to call for the rest of the team.

 

And then she realized why it was all so easy.

 

Red Skull sat on the only furniture in the room, a single arm chair, a carelessly insouciant smile on his lips. His chin rested on his fist on one arm of the chair and his other hand was buried in Tony’s hair where the genius sat at his feet, chained to the chair leg and clad only in a hospital dressing gown. His eyes were wide in panic and hope when he saw Natasha. Schmidt tapped at his ear, miming the communicator, and held his hand out. Natasha slowly pulled it out and tossed to him.

 

“Miss Romanoff, or the infamous Black Widow, shall we say,” he greeted after shutting the communicator off then absently stroking Tony’s hair. Natasha said nothing, discreetly analyzing how she could extract Tony. She was not delusional; she was no match for the Red Skull. Schmidt’s gaze flickered briefly to Tony, and his smile widened. “I will tell you now that whatever you’re planning, it will not work.” He suddenly gripped Tony’s hair tight and pulled it up, drawing a wince and forcing Tony to kneel up as he lifted his head to minimize the pull. Schmidt pulled him up and backward further so that he slid neatly onto Schmidt’s lap, his head tilted back and throat bared. “Mr. Stark has a remote-controlled explosive buried just here.” He pointed to the spot just below his sternum before spreading his fingers and caressing Tony’s stomach. “If you, or the rest of your team, do _anything_ that I do not like, I regret to say that your mission here would be for nothing.”

 

“You’re bluffing,” Natasha said carefully. Schmidt’s grin was positively gleeful.

 

“Shall we care to test that theory?” She wasn’t. Even if it meant Schmidt would get blown up too, she wasn’t going to use Tony as a sacrifice.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I want you to call in the rest of your team here,” Schmidt had turned serious as he tossed back her communicator. “I warn you not to try anything, Widow.” Natasha put the comm back in her ear.

 

“Captain, change of plans,” she said calmly. “I have Stark, but the building’s empty. Take the north entrance and go down three levels. We’ll be in the room three doors down on your right. Bring Dr. Banner. I need him to look at Stark.” Then she dropped her hand and waited.

 

She didn’t turn to greet her teammates when they rushed in through the door and froze at the sight she refused to peel her eyes from. And then Thor lunged towards Schmidt and Tony, hammer aloft, so she turned around and shoved him back hard.

 

“Don’t,” she hissed. Thor, eyes wide with alarmed, stopped and let his arm fall.

 

“Very good, Miss Romanoff. And shall I say what a pleasure it is to see you again, Captain,” Schmidt said, his gleeful tone back. Steve glared at him, so venomous that Natasha was taken aback momentarily; she hadn’t thought he was capable of bearing such intense hatred towards anyone.

 

“What do you want, Schmidt?” he asked icily. Schmidt ignored him for a moment to focus on Tony and slip a hand beneath his gown. Tony visibly froze and shied away from the touch, and Schmidt chuckled, peeking out of the corner of his eye to observe Steve’s reaction. And then he let go of Tony and shoved him back down on the floor.

 

“Miss Romanoff, I am sure, will warn you what a terrible, tragic idea it would be to resist,” he said. Natasha shook her head in warning when they glanced at her. “And Dr. Banner, you better keep that monster of yours under check. If I see the slightest hint of green on you, I will not hesitate to put an end to Mr. Stark.” Bruce’s eyes widened in alarm.

 

“I’ll do my best, but I suggest that you try not to kill me. That won’t work out well for any of us,” he said. Schmidt ignored him to pet Tony again. Then two agents came in, one of them bearing a tray with syringes. Each Avenger accepted the injection without question or resistance and, seconds later, they all fell into unconsciousness.

 

………………

 

“ _Captain, change of plans_ ,” he heard on the communicator and then he was shot in the chest. He pulled out his gun as he fell and tumbled into an alcove in the Quinjet.

 

“Come out, Phil, and we’ll make your last few minutes easier,” said Agent Sitwell, hidden himself in a different alcove.

 

“Didn’t peg you for a double agent, Jasper,” Phil called out, clutching at the bullet hole just below his right shoulder. He glanced at it quickly with a quiet curse and clutched at it again. Then he leaned around the wall that partially hid him to observe his surroundings. The two pilots were out of their seats, but Phil could see them hidden behind the cockpit arch; that they weren’t shooting at Sitwell was a bad sign. He fired blindly once in their general direction, waited for a shot to ring out then looked around the wall to fire a bullet straight through the co-pilot’s forehead. The pilot met the same demise a few minutes later—these men weren’t selected for their ability to fire a gun, after all, and they were, of course, no match for an agent of Phil’s calibre.

 

Sitwell, though, was a whole other matter. He and Phil had known each other for years, and Sitwell was a good enough agent to merit Phil’s level of security clearance. Both factors, compounded with Phil’s gunshot wound made for a more difficult takedown.

 

“So what was it? Better pay? More vacation time?” he called out. Sitwell laughed in good humour; whether it was faked or not, Phil wasn’t sure.

 

“Nothing you need to concern yourself about anymore, Phil,” he answered. Several gunshots rang out.

 

“ _What do you want, Schmidt_?” Steve’s voice crackled through the comm and Phil cursed silently. He sent back some shots to keep Sitwell back while he listened in on the conversation. “ _Miss Romanoff, I am sure, will warn you what a terrible, tragic idea it would be to resist. And Dr. Banner, you better keep that monster of yours under check. If I see the slightest hint of green on you, I will not hesitate to put an end to Mr. Stark._ ”

 

“ _I’ll do my best, but I suggest that you try not to kill me. That won’t work out well for any of us_.” Phil clenched his jaw shut when the conversation had ended and he was sure the Avengers were down and stepped into the line of Sitwell’s fire. Sitwell took full advantage and caught the other agent on the chest, just below the first shot. Phil cried out and fell to the floor, face down and eyes shut, his blood pooling around him. Sitwell emerged from his hiding spot, nudged Phil with his boot and lifted his wrist to his mouth as he aimed his gun at Phil’s head.

 

“Coulson is down. He won’t be a problem anymore,” he said, then Phil rolled onto his side and shot Sitwell right between the eyebrows.

 

………………

 

It had been a week since he last saw them when they had been carted out of the room. Schmidt saw them off then turned to Tony with a sadistic grin.

 

_“Oh it’s all true, Mr. Stark, don’t worry,” he said, and Tony touched the surgery wounds in horror. “I’m pleased that you’ve been cooperative this far along and that I’ve not had to use it. It would have been a true shame to lose a test subject like you. There are others, of course, but they just don’t hurt as delightfully as you do.”_

 

He’d been taken back here, wherever ‘here’ was, the same way he had left: sedated into unconsciousness. And he had woken to the same cracks in the ceiling that had become so familiar to him in the last two months or so.

 

He had been thinking about what had become of his teammates since then, wondering if they were being subjected to the same treatment he had undergone, wishing that they weren’t.

 

He’d thought about making use of his newfound knowledge of his surgery, to get what he’d been wanting since Alpha5-15 and to save his teammates at the same time by liberating them of the need to obey Schmidt to make sure he was kept alive. He’d had to think long and hard about it until he decided that Schmidt wouldn’t use it to control him; Schmidt would more likely have him sedated and strap him up to the bench with Alpha5-15 or Beta 3-20 or Sigma7-04 before he’d detonate it to punish Tony for his actions. Tony clenched his jaw at the thought.

 

Instead, he waited until Connor came to him a week after the Avengers had been caught. He was warm and smiling all over again, and Tony wanted to punch him; he would have if not for the restraints and the threat of the bench.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark,” he said.

 

“Can we cut the bullshit?” Tony asked sharply, and Connor was taken aback at the sudden life in him. “What are you doing to me? To us? _Why_ are you doing this?” Connor turned to the syringe he held in his hand, then back to Tony. His warmth was suddenly gone, and Tony saw the man that stared down at him, watching him being raped.

 

“I would think you would know the answer to that well enough, Mr. Stark. After all, we scientists would do anything in our quest for knowledge,” he answered coolly.

 

“For science?! That’s your fucking reason?!” Tony yelled, hysterical as Connor reached his empty hand to hold Tony’s upper arm down. He brought the syringe closer, and Tony thrashed.

 

“Yes, Mr. Stark. That is exactly my purpose,” he said and pushed the needle into his inner elbow. The plunger was depressed, and Tony felt the fluid enter his body, burning as it went. His eyes rolled upward as the searing heat boiled his blood, leaving him gasping and grasping at the bed sheets. The heat travelled upwards to his head and downwards to his feet and when his entire body felt like it was on fire, it settled and cooled and left a familiar simmering sensation beneath his skin.

 

“Oh!” Tony gasped as the soft caress of the bed sheets sent goose bumps all over his skin. His cock awakened at the sensations, and he struggled to put his hands on himself, all thought of their conversation gone from him. The cloth beneath his ass slowly grew wet with the fluid that Tony knew came from in him. It was what had conveniently allowed Alpha5-15 and Beta 3-20 and Sigma7-04 to take him without forethought to prep or lube. He thrust into the whisper of the hospital gown against his cock. It wasn’t enough, but it was far better than that which he experienced at the bench. He squeezed his eyes shut, staving off the _want_ and the memories that came almost hand in hand, but, like in the past, they came and drowned him.

 

Hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, efficiently stripping him down. He cried out at the loss of friction on his cock and fought against the hold which did not budge as he was taken from his room and literally dragged out the door as his feet refused to walk, his brain no longer attending to any other function except trying to relieve his arousal. He was dragged through hallways until another door was opened and he was thrown through, falling to his knees in the center of the room. The bolt was shut audibly behind him, but by then he hand his hands on himself and was jerking off furiously. It took no more than two tugs, his touch and the strangely heady scent around him tipping him over the edge quite easily. He whined loudly as he came because it was _still not fucking enough_!

 

“Stark?”

 

At the voice, Tony froze and looked up from his lust-induced haze straight into the blue eyes of Captain America before him, naked and strapped against the wall like all of Tony’s teenage fantasies. Even in the dim light, Tony could see the blue in his eyes slowly giving way to the black of his pupils that were threatening to take over. That was the last he could remember of Steve’s eyes, though, because he looked down and saw Steve’s cock erupting, proud and prominent, from a nest of curls at the base. He scrambled to all fours and hurried over, the throb of his own erection blinding him to everything else. His mouth was on Steve without hesitation or thought, sucking him hard and desperate, begging for attention from his hands as though it was Steve’s choice to make.

 

A lusty groan filled his ears and sent a shiver up his spine, and he whined around the appendage in his mouth, reaching for his cock and stroking himself again. And then suddenly, there were hands in his hair, sharply pulling at him and tugging him off of Steve. The same hands used his hair as leverage to toss him to the side. Tony yelped in surprise and a small amount of pain until he realized Steve stood, baring his teeth and snarling, in front of him, trapping him against the wall.

 

Before Steve, stood Natasha, Clint and Thor, the same snarls on their faces.

 

Thor was the first to attack. Steve took him down easily enough with skill because Thor curiously did not have his inhuman strength that often overpowered Steve’s own and yet Steve had all his skills that Thor was too used to the brute force of his strength to counter. He ducked under the god’s hammering fist, causing him to pitch forward into the spot where Steve had been, slammed his forearm down on the back of his neck and delivered a sharp kick to his side that had Thor rolling away in pain just in time for Steve to counter the second attack.

 

It was Natasha, Tony could see, because Clint was already writhing on the floor where Natasha had taken him down while Steve and Thor had fought. This time, Steve’s skill could not save him because Natasha was far, far more skilled than he. On the other hand, where brute strength had not worked on Thor, it was effective against the lithe assassin. She caught Steve around the neck and swung herself around as though Steve was nothing but a pole and she, the dancer. Steve, however, caught her around the waist just as she completed her turn and slammed her down on the ground, closing a hand around her neck and _squeezing_. She choked and gasped for breath, fingers pulling at Steve’s hand until Steve’s glare relaxed slightly, and he allowed her to scramble out of his reach.

 

Steve had his back to them as he turned to Tony when Thor made to attack him once more. Only the panic in Tony’s eyes warned him, and he roared as he turned to his teammate.

 

“STAND DOWN!”

 

Thor halted mid-step, eyes blazing with passion as he and Steve stared each other down. Then Steve drew himself up further, puffing out his chest in what should have been a ridiculous display for any human to do, but it seemed to have the desired effect as Thor straightened himself and backed away to where Natasha and Clint were tending to their bruises and Bruce was cowering. Steve turned his back to them once more, satisfied, and knelt and pulled Tony sharply beneath him.

 

The cement scraped against his back as he was pulled, but his legs spread before Steve almost involuntarily. The captain settled himself in between and pressed his mouth to the genius’s bared and arched neck, growling lowly in pleasure. He gathered Tony’s wrists into one hand and pinned them above his head while, with his other hand, lifted one of Tony’s legs to his shoulder, spreading the smaller man beneath him even more.

 

“Please, Steve. Please,” Tony begged, using the leg thrown over Steve’s shoulder as leverage to pull him closer. Steve growled and bit down on his throat, gentle, but a firm reminder of who was in charge. When Tony whimpered softly in acquiescence, Steve shifted his lips to Tony’s mouth and kissed him as he pressed his cock against the bared, sopping hole. He did not hesitate in pushing forward, but was gentle in his motions. He rocked minutely back and forth as he pushed inside, drinking down Tony’s moans and whimpers and sobs of pleasure until he was completely seated in the brunet. Tony wrapped his other leg around Steve’s waist and pulled him closer, rocking against him and silently begging for more. Steve was in no mood to tease, so he complied readily and pulled himself out before thrusting back in, gently at first and then faster and faster and faster until Tony was crying out and struggling against the hand that held his wrists. Steve paid no attention to the struggles, but released his wrists anyway.

 

He pulled out of Tony, earning a cry of “Don’t! Please, Steve!” which he ignored in favour of flipping him onto his hands and knees, inadvertently facing the rest of the team and plowing into him with a single thrust that had Tony practically screaming. Steve was merciless in his need to _claim!claim!claim!_ the other. He grasped at his hips and used it as leverage to push and pull Tony onto him in time with his own thrusts, filling and claiming and _owning_ his teammate.

 

“Mine,” he growled through his teeth that were clamped down on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony violently came onto the cement beneath him. His orgasm forced him to clench around Steve who gave one last thrust and succumbed to his own orgasm.

 

They were motionless for a short while as both sought to regain their breathing, but Steve both refused and was unable to relinquish his tight hold on the billionaire. The latter gave a small, surprised squeak when he shifted minutely and felt Steve’s cock in him, solid, swollen and immoveable.

 

“Cap?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Steve’s flushed face.

 

“Don’t move, Tony,” Steve murmured, wiping at Tony’s brow and settling him into his lap in a more comfortable position. He looked back up to the rest of the team who were watching them with a deep-seated hunger in their eyes. His eyes roved carefully over each one before flickering back to Natasha. He beckoned her over, and she stood, sauntering gracefully, carefully to where he sat. She settled before both of them, wary and alert, watching Steve’s hand as he reached around the man in his lap and stroked the marks around her throat that were starting to bruise. His hand didn’t linger there for long; it moved from her neck to cup her cheek and brush the skin just beneath her eye, tenderly, and then back down to the swell of her breast, cupping it and testing its weight in his hand before flicking his thumb over the nipple. She moaned, softly, leaning forward slightly, and Steve hummed in approval. “He’s yours,” Steve offered, but making it clear that Tony wasn’t to move from his lap.

 

Natasha wasn’t one to waste any moment, any opportunity. She was quick and efficient as she pulled the genius forward and kissed his mouth. Tony yielded to her almost instantly, moaning as her tongue slipped past his lips and licked at every crevice in his mouth as though memorizing each nook for whatever future reference. She taught him to cup her breasts and stroke her clit, and Tony used every ounce of his past experience to please her. He couldn’t explain, couldn’t think at that moment _why_ —why was he doing this, why the sudden familiarity, the _want_ where there was none before; all he could think of was making her—and Steve—pleased with him.

 

“I want—” He stopped himself abruptly because there was this sudden rush of thoughts inside him that declared it didn’t matter what _he_ wanted. “Please,” he amended. “Please, let me lick you. Please. I can be _so_ good for you, Natasha.” Natasha considered him in what was, in all honestly, just the briefest amount of hesitation but seemed like the longest wait of Tony’s life, then rose to her feet sinuously. She lifted one leg and propped her foot on Steve’s shoulder, receiving a reverent kiss to her instep in return. Steve stroked her calf as Tony moaned at the scent of her sex, leaning forward as far as he could and drawing her closer the rest of the way. She was clean shaven and wet against his lips and warm against his tongue as he lapped languorously against the outer lips of her cunt. Her moans and tight grip in his hair pleased him endlessly. He slipped his tongue in the folds of her skin and licked at her wetness, moaning at the taste of her.

 

He was suddenly glad—where he hadn’t been before—of all the women he had been with, of the experience he had gained because it meant that he could give Natasha what she needed—what she _wanted_ , which was more important. He was so good—so _good_ —to her as he sucked at her clit and stroked and fucked her cunt with his tongue. Her wetness moistened his goatee and smeared all around his mouth but he had her coming easily, groaning impossibly loudly, and grinding against his mouth as she came.

 

And then she was in his lap, and she and Steve were licking at his mouth and his jaw and were moving against him at the same time, and Tony cried out as he came yet again, spurting ribbons of fluid onto Natasha’s breasts and stomach. Natasha pressed her forehead against his, cupping his cheeks and heaving deep breaths in between whispers of “so good” and “such a good boy” in a variety of languages.

 

Steve reached around Tony and lifted one of her breasts where a strand of come was draped and Tony bent his head and licked it off. He cleaned her breasts with his tongue, following her down onto the floor so that she was lying down and he was on his hands and knees above her while, behind him, Steve tugged himself out with a certain amount of difficulty. He groaned at the feeling somewhere between discomfort, pain and pleasure as Steve pushed and pulled from behind him, trying to dislodge his cock from the smaller man’s ass. When he finally pulled free with a sudden pop, Steve stood and surveyed the remainder of his team at the other end of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts. There's also a whole bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo towards the end about things I know _zilch_ about. Really. Please do not lecture me about arteries and internal organs because I am disclaiming any knowledge about any of it, and I am too lazy to do any research on the topic (yeah, that makes me a lousy author, so sue me).
> 
> That aside, enjoy this chapter. It officially ends the first main part of the story.

They were relentless.

 

They took him and took him and took him, one after the other and often at the same time, in a steady cycle that paused only long enough for him to eat and sleep and sometimes not even that much. They went through countless permutations of combinations of ass and cock and hand and mouth and breast and cunt. Tony had had all of them in his mouth, all of them on his cock and all of them in his ass. He’d tasted every one of them and begged for more, and he gave and gave and gave.

 

He was relentless, too.

 

And when the simmering died out, three days later, he’s too fucked out to remember most of it and too dazed to care about anything else.

 

He buried one hand in Bruce’s shaggy hair while they kissed in Thor’s lap. One of the god’s arms was wrapped snugly around his waist while the other fingered Bruce. The doctor moaned against Tony’s mouth and ground back against the questing fingers, and Thor’s mouth found Tony’s neck and added another hickey to the collection of bruises and bites there. The CEO wasn’t up yet for another round, though, so he pulled back from the kiss and snuggled into Thor’s embrace where he watched Steve, Natasha and Clint talk a few ways away. He was mostly ignored by the pair closer to him, engaged as they were in their own kiss, but he didn’t mind at all because Steve had turned to him and smiled in a soft way that made his stomach flutter.

 

Steve left Clint and Natasha and settled himself beside Thor, opening his arms and beckoning Tony into them. Tony couldn’t see any reason not to comply.

 

“Hey,” Steve murmured, brushing back a couple of strands of Tony’s hair while the other buried his face in the broad chest. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Fucked,” was Tony’s muffled reply and Steve chuckled.

 

“Good,” he said teasingly, and Tony poked him.

 

“You’re a virgin. You aren’t supposed to laugh at sex jokes,” the genius mumbled.

 

“Wherever did you get _that_ idea?” Steve asked. Tony only titled his head back to look at him with raised eyebrows in surprise and question. Steve laughed, kissed him on the forehead and wrapped his arms around him in a firm embrace. Sated and warm, it was easy to forget that they were held captive and had been experimented on by sadistic bastards. But moments of silence passed and took the lightness away with it. “Are you okay?” Steve asked him again, quietly, seriously. Tony was motionless for a while but eventually gave a tiny nod. Steve was unconvinced but let it pass anyway and kissed the top of his head before settling himself around the other man and watching Clint and Natasha talk quietly as they stood guard at the door. The food was due to arrive any moment, and though they weren’t bothered by the agents who delivered it, being unaware wasn’t a risk they were willing to take.

 

Almost on cue, the lock snicked as it opened, and the door was pushed inwards. Though expected, everyone tensed at the intrusion, Natasha and Clint adopting defensive poses where they stood. But instead of the bread and water, it was Connors who stepped through, and Tony suddenly shrank back in Steve’s arms, horror written all over his face. Steve’s grip tightened around him, almost painfully, but Tony whimpered for it.

 

“I’ve come to take you back, Mr. Stark,” Connors said evenly, calmly, as though he had nothing to fear from angering two assassins, a God, a super soldier and a Hulk.

 

“No. Nonononono…” Tony whispered repeatedly. Connor’s gaze did not waver, even as he adjusted his glasses.

 

“Come now, Mr. Stark,” he said, oblivious to the baring teeth of the other Avengers. “There are tests we need to run, data that needs to be compiled, discoveries to be made, science to be advanced!” Tony shook his head desperately.

 

“Please,” he begged. “Please, no. Let me stay here. Please. _Please_.” Connors took a step toward him, and Natasha and Clint took a step closer to the doctor as well. Thor was on his knees in front of Bruce who had his eyes shut and was whispering to himself quietly while Steve pulled Tony further into his arms and tilted his body away from the intruder, the captor. Connor was unfazed at the threat pouring out of the Avengers in waves but he refrained from stepping any closer.

 

“Captain Rogers, I’d advise you to relinquish your hold on Mr. Stark and keep your team back,” he said. Steve’s glare remained unwavering in the tension that clouded the room.

 

“Give us a minute,” he eventually said, and Tony let out a small noise of protest, of fear, of desperation that affected Steve more deeply than the threat Connors brought. He didn’t wait for Connors to respond; he only buried his face in Tony’s hair and whispered so, so quietly, “We’ll find you. We’ll find you, Tony, and we’ll get you out of here, I promise. I swear. _God_ , I swear I’m going to make them pay, but you have to go with him now because there’s nothing we can do right now except obey.” Tony trembled in his arms.

 

“Don’t make me go,” he said, equally quietly, and Steve kissed him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Go. We’ll find you. I promise.” He stood, lifting Tony along with him, and passing the smaller man to the rest of the team who gathered him in a hug and pressed kisses and promises to his skin. Then Natasha extracted him from the rest and passed him to Connors with a last kiss. They didn’t say anything more; their glares effectively communicated their promise for deadly vengeance.

 

………………

 

He almost— _almost_ —wished they hadn’t come. At least when they hadn’t been there, he could imagine—and often did—with startling clarity exactly how he’d save himself from all this misery given the slightest inkling of a chance: a well-applied cut to a vein, a small step off a high-enough roof, a hard, blunt blow to the forehead. Now, his ache to see them again, to touch them, to _be_ with them warred with his desire to die, and he could no longer call on the images that had gotten him through the last two-odd months.

 

For the past two weeks, he could only imagine how they’d storm the facility, tearing down doors and people who stood before them on their way to him. He could only imagine how they’d rescue him and take him home and surround him day and night, blind and deaf to all else, until he no longer felt the filth under his skin. He could only imagine how they’d take care of him and love him until he once again became the man he had been before all this.

 

It was a ridiculous thought.

 

They couldn’t save him, and any attempt to do so would not end well, Schmidt had made sure of that. His very captivity was the chains that bound them.

 

Even more ridiculous was the thought that they would take care of him until he was himself again.

 

Before those three days, they had been nothing more than teammates, people he only saw when the world needed saving and only when he could extract himself from SI duties. To them, he was only an asset as Iron Man, and he showed his face to them at meetings and briefings, when he could spare the time, in his armour for that very reason. Tony Stark was unreliable, a liability, a nuisance, a source of tech and financial support and nothing more. He was needed only when there were things that needed fixing, by his brain or by his money, but otherwise was unwelcome. He was the butt of jokes that agents whispered behind his back and Clint told upfront, and while he always gave as good as he got, he was still nothing more to them than a necessary evil.

 

For those three days, he was nothing to them but a convenient, willing—oh, so willing—hole to sink into, their drugged minds convincing them that it was more than that. They’d kissed him and held him and whispered declarations of love to him, but he knew better. He knew that it was the unmarked bags that made them think that, and it was the burning drug that tricked them into thinking their love was justified. He knew that after this... after this, they’d be cured, and he’d be nothing to them but just a teammate once more.

 

A broken, used, miserable teammate who couldn’t be fixed even if they wanted to.

 

He breathed in deeply and let out a ragged breath, and then he opened his eyes and imagined Steve bursting into the room saying, “ _We’re here, Tony. We’re taking you home._ ” It was a ridiculous, if nice thought.

 

………………

 

He was strapped to the bench again when he woke, feeling the familiar simmering under his skin and the heaviness of his full cock before he even shook the grogginess out of his eyes. He briefly registered Connors in front of him, sitting on his haunches with his elbows on his knees, his hands in a loose clasp, when he looked up, in fear and resignation, to find out who was being inflicted upon him this time. There was no one else, so he ignored the doctor and buried his face in his arms. He felt Connors’ intent but unfocused stare burning the back of his neck, but he paid it no mind as he fought to relieve his erection.

 

“I’m giving you a choice, Mr. Stark,” Connors finally said, slowly as though he knew he’d have to fight the lust-filled sensations that claimed Tony’s attention. “You will choose, from any of the people you have been with, save Miss Romanoff, who will take you through your heat.”

 

“Steve!” Tony gasped instantly and without having to spare even a second to think about it. Connors was taken aback at the ease of his response, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He had prepared a lengthier speech that that.

 

Anyway, it mattered little what he was supposed to say. He nodded, though Tony was too preoccupied to notice, stood and called for Steve to be brought.

 

………………

 

Steve could _smell_ Tony from three corridors away. He hardened at the first whiff, barely only keeping himself from bounding ahead of his escort towards the other man, and was panting at the potent aroma by the time they were just outside the door. Connors was there, looking him from head to toe, evaluating him, but Steve barely felt any shame at his naked, rock-hard cock and could only look into the frosted glass, making out the blurry figure inside. Without a word, the door was opened for him and he went staggering into the door jamb at the smell and sight before him, Tony trussed up and _open_.

 

Instinct screamed at him to _take!take!take!_ and it was only with a superhuman amount of effort that he managed to press his back to the wall of the room closest to the door and hold himself back. Tony lifted his head when he realized Steve was _there_ and struggled against the bonds that held him, desperate to get to Steve and present himself.

 

“Let him go,” Steve demanded. Or tried to. It was so, so hard to think of anything else when Tony was _just there_ and ready and bared and so terribly eager. And then Tony realized he wouldn’t be able to get free and that Steve wasn’t going to take him, so he buried his face back in his arms and made small, jerky motions with his hips. Steve groaned and dented the metal wall behind him with his finger tips.

 

“Do you really want me to, Captain?” Connors asked, his tone curious but the question obviously rhetorical.

 

“ _Yes_.” It came out as a croak more than anything.

 

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Steve tore his eyes away from Tony to look at Connors and try to communicate his anger with a glare.

 

“Then I refuse to touch him.” The doctor’s eyes darkened in displeasure.

 

“I wouldn’t advise you to do that,” he answered calmly. “What I would advise you to do, Captain, is to touch him as often as you need, to take him as often as you need, to knot him as often as you need for the next three or four days until you are able to impregnate him.” Steve avoided pointing out that Tony was clearly male and therefore unable to get pregnant, but something had obviously been done to him to change that because he had seen the surgical scars and was intelligent enough to make the connections. “Because let me tell you, Captain, that Mr. Stark is fast becoming a disappointing failure. Failures are not tolerated here, and should Mr. Stark prove to be so, he will be given as a mere plaything to the other test subjects who, let us say, have become so very, very _fond_ of him.” The metal squealed as it twisted under Steve’s fingertips, but Connors held his gaze steadily through a silent five minutes. “Why do you resist?” he eventually asked, tilting his head in wonder. “I’m giving him to you on a silver platter.”

 

“He’s not yours to give,” Steve spat back. Connors looked thoughtful, but then he turned to the door and knocked twice. It opened for him.

 

“Three days, Captain.” Steve watched him go, furious at the thought that merely a door held him back from escaping with Tony and the rest of his team. None of the agents here could ever match them; Thor alone could lay waste to the entire organization, Hulk could level the facility. Then he put that out of his mind and fell to his knees beside Tony. He stroked his hair.

 

“Tony?” he murmured and the other man lifted his head.

 

“Steve, _please_.” He was so, so very desperate, and Steve wanted so bad to give him respite.

 

“I don’t—” he started, but he didn’t know what he wanted. Instead, he grasped Tony’s cock and gave it several tugs that had Tony pistoning his hips into his grasp. He stroked the smaller man quickly and efficiently into completion. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t particularly pleasurable, but Tony groaned into his arms as his orgasm rushed out of him. Steve stroked his hair again before tilting his head up. He kissed him softly, which Tony returned. “You have a choice. I’m not going to take that away just because they tell me to,” he said, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Please,” Tony repeated.

 

………………

 

The first they took out were the agents in the security room. This time, though, the room was buried in the bowels of the facility, making it infinitely more difficult to access than Natasha had done in the first one, but Phil hadn’t spent the last month studying the hacked security footage for nothing.

 

Hydra was sloppier this time around. They were too heavily reliant on the Avengers’ (and SHIELD’s) compliance due to their threat to Tony and were too careless to check them better after they had been stripped and locked up. It seemed that since the Avengers were the face of SHIELD and were sent on the most publicized missions, they had forgotten that SHIELD had existed and flourished for decades before the Avengers. They had forgotten that SHIELD was an organization of elite spies.

 

After taking Sitwell out, Phil had gotten himself to the nearest hospital before he’d completely run out of blood, and SHIELD had taken him back home, silently and swiftly, only a few hours after. When he’d woken up post-surgery, he’d had Clint’s tracker, embedded beneath his skin, unnoticeable and untraceable except to SHIELD computers, traced to Nayman, Kyrgyzstan. From there, he, Maria, Nick, Pepper, Rhodey, JARVIS and absolutely no one else started planning. After the leak with Sitwell, they weren’t taking any chances.

 

He shot both Hydra agents before they could turn around and inputted a backdoor for JARVIS to access the systems remotely.

 

“ _I’m ready, Agent_ ,” said JARVIS through the comm. Phil left his station, silently locking the door behind him and assuming the role of a non-descript Hydra agent as he passed through the halls. “ _Take three doors down and two to the right, Agent Hill_ ,” he heard JARVIS tell Maria. She was on her way to Connors. “ _Four floors down, Agent Coulson, they’re in the first cell when you enter_.” Phil passed two agents easily; they paid him no mind. “ _Mr. Stark is on level five, Director. There are two checkpoints before you reach him. All output surveillance has been looped; you should have at least two hours to get them out before the security room shift changes and you are discovered_.”

 

Phil made his way to the lower floors, flashing his fake ID and making the appropriate motions at the guard stationed at each entrance. He was let through without further question after he stated his purpose. Maria had already taken out earlier the Hydra agent whose duties he had taken over.

 

The cells were clinical in their cleanliness, which was a small comfort to the captives, but he wasted no more time to appreciate the scenery and entered the first cell as per JARVIS’s directions. Immediately, an aura of unbridled anger hit him, but, though he tensed and readied himself for an attack, none came. The Avengers, in varying positions and distances from him, directed fierce glares his way, until he pulled off his mask and revealed who he really was.

 

“Phil.” Clint was the first to speak, relief dripping from his voice, and then they surrounded him.

 

“The director is getting Tony as we speak,” Phil said, clearly and economical in his words. “He’ll be brought to the room you’ve been to, Captain, under the guise of further testing.” Steve refused to point out that the room was called the breeding room and was thankful Phil refused to call it that as well. “You’ll all be brought there as well under the same guise. When we’ve regrouped, JARVIS will cut the connection between the explosive and its remote detonator. He can do that for all of fifteen minutes until failsafes start kicking in, which means, Dr. Banner, we’ll have fifteen minutes to take it out of him and destroy it.” Bruce’s jaw is set, but he nods ever so slightly, unsurely. Phil ignored it for a moment while he put on his mask. “Let’s go.” It didn’t escape them that they weren’t briefed about what would happen after they managed to dispose of the bomb.

 

He was questioned rather thoroughly at the checkpoint, but he had the documents to prove his words, so they’re released without much fuss. Hydra shouldn’t have been too confident in their security measures, especially when going up against SHIELD. The walk was silent, and tension spiked whenever they encountered agents, but Phil made the appropriate motions, as perfectly as any other Hydra agent, and they were on their way.

 

‘Breeding Room’ the sign said and Steve wanted to violently tear it down. Later, later, he promised himself. Inside, Nick greeted them with a gun to the face until he recognized Phil and then let them inside. Tony was sitting on the floor, as far away from the bench as possible, knees pressed to his chin and arms hugging his legs close to his chest.

 

“I had to take a couple of people out,” Nick whispered lowly to Phil, mostly ignoring the way the Avengers darted to Tony’s side and wrapped him in a group hug. Hands caressed and kisses were exchanged, so Nick tuned them out for the time being.

 

“JARVIS, we’re clear,” Phil said into the comm.

 

“ _Understood, agent. I am ready to cut the signal at your convenience_.”

 

“Bruce,” Phil called. Heads turned his way and Bruce, in the thick of the mass of bodies, nodded.

 

“I need you to lie down, Tony. I have to see where and how big it is,” he said. Tony only nodded and complied, allowing Bruce to use his fingertips to trace the outline of the explosive. Tony hissed softly at the firm press to the space below his sternum, so Clint slipped beneath his head so that Tony’s head was on his lap and stroked his hair. He spent a few minutes examining Tony and considering his options, then Bruce bit his lip and looked up into the expectant eyes of everyone else. “I can’t cut it out without hitting a major artery. Not in fifteen minutes and not without proper medical equipment.” Phil and Nick exchanged glances.

 

“We can get you the equipment, but not the time, doctor. There’s an operating room a couple of halls down. Would that help?” Phil asked. Bruce shook his head, full of hesitance and regret.

 

“Can you push it out through the reactor cavity?” Tony suddenly asked. A moment of stillness passed through them as Bruce considered the question.

 

“I... I’m not sure. There’s a risk of snagging if we jostle it around...”

 

“And you’re going to have to do it in less than five minutes because you’re going to have to pull the plug on me,” Tony added. His calm went against every conflicting emotion passing through the rest of the Avengers.

 

“I... I...” Bruce was _so damn frightened_ , and Tony knew it. He reached for Bruce and dragged him down by the back of his head.

 

“You can _do_ this. You _can_ ,” he said, confident. “You’re going to take it out so that we can get out of here and get to medical where I’m going to be _fine_. We all are.” He pressed Bruce’s forehead to his, their eyes closed until Bruce nodded. When he did, Tony kissed him and let him go.

 

“I’ll need your help, Nat. Your hands are small enough to pull it out of the casing,” Bruce said. Natasha only nodded. Bruce took a deep breath and slotted his fingers into the latches that would release the arc reactor. Tony’s own deep breath did not go unnoticed. The reactor slid out smoothly, but Bruce kept it connected. “Clint, I need you to hold this,” he said, passing the reactor over. Clint held it at the exact length Bruce had passed to him. “When I say now, you’re going to pull it out. When he does, Nat, you’ll have to reach in and slide your hand down to reach for the...” He faltered at ‘bomb.’ “Reach it. Just take it out. Tony will tell you how to reattach the reactor.” Natasha squeezed her hands into fists before relaxing them and nodding.

 

Bruce took another deep breath and traced the bomb again with his fingertips, visualizing how it would look, and then he pressed down on it. Tony gasped softly, but Bruce forced himself to ignore him. He pushed against it even more and then guided it upwards, beneath his breast bone. Tony’s hand moved to clutch at Thor’s, but the pain, Bruce was sure, was more from the pressure of his fingertips than anything else. He pushed it upwards, as far as he could, the skin between Tony’s stomach and chest distorting around his fingers. Bruce took a deep breath and looked at Clint.

 

“Now,” he said, and Clint _tugged_. This time, Tony’s gasp was a lot more worrying. Natasha slid her hand into the casing, taking care to avoid jostling any of Tony’s internal organs. It was difficult to manoeuvre beneath the rim of the casing, but she felt her fingers brush the metal of the explosive. She pushed her hand in further, carefully, until she could grasp it in between two fingers and pull it out. Steve took it the second she held it up. It was small, round and smooth, which was a big relief, all things considered, but the blood that coated her hands wasn’t.

 

“Hook... hook the wires back to the m–matching ones underneath,” Tony stuttered. His grip around Thor’s hand would have been downright painful for any normal person; Thor only gripped back. Natasha frowned in concentration and connected the wires with their matching ports, and when the arc reactor was slotted back in place, a breath of relief escaped everyone. Steve stood and turned to Nick and Phil, full-on Captain America even without the costume.

 

“Maria has Connors sedated and contained,” Nick offered. Steve nodded, considering.

 

“Who’s on the outside?” he asked.

 

“A jet about a mile out and War Machine just outside their radars,” Phil answered.

 

“Get to him and have him take Tony to safety,” Steve ordered. “Thor, pick up the Deputy Director and Connors. Hawkeye, Widow, get all information you can possibly extract from their offline files. JARVIS?” Phil nodded. “Have him extract all online files.”

 

“ _Already done, Agent_ ,” said JARVIS in Phil’s ear.

 

“Hulk, I want this place leveled.” Bruce nodded, his skin already tingeing green. Steve looked around at his team evaluatively before nodding a go-signal. “I’m going after Schmidt.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up. Wooo! Real life caught up with me the past few weeks, hence the delay, but hopefully I can get the next chapters up soon. I might be posting some new fics at the same time because there are so many plotbunnies jumping around in my head.
> 
> So. Many. Bunnies.
> 
> I'd like to thank [MarieRavenclaw](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieRavenclaw/pseuds/MarieRavenclaw) for her beta skillz (yes, with a 'z' :D). I did do some tweaking after she'd beta'd though because I'm a nutcase like that, so any mistakes are completely my own.

The first person Tony saw when he woke was, naturally, Pepper, and all was right with the world again.

 

Her eyes were red and puffy, and Tony did not doubt why, but she was smiling softly in a way that told him she was so genuinely happy to see him. She kissed him on his forehead before he was able to speak, but that didn’t stop him from doing so.

 

“Hmmm. Your eyes are red. Tears for your long lost boss?” he asked.

 

“Tears of joy,” she answered. “I hate job hunting.” Tony tried to laugh at the intentional moment of déjà vu, he really did, and it’s that attempt that made Pepper murmur, “Oh, Tony” and hug him hard. He accepted it with immense gratitude because he, too, was so genuinely happy to see her. He felt the pinpricks of tears behind his own eyes, but discreetly wiped away the moisture before she could pull away. It was when she did that he recognized there was a niggling little feeling tugging at his heart.

 

“Where are Steve and the others?” he asked, looking around the room—his own bedroom converted into a makeshift hospital for which he would have been immensely grateful if he hadn’t been so bothered by what it lacked. The niggling feeling accelerated as he found the room empty except for Pepper.

 

“Bruce will be back in a few minutes. I told him to get coffee because he’s barely left the room for the last three days,” she answered. Her fingers petted his hair softly, and he only resisted the urge to shove her hand away because his mind was preoccupied with chanting a consistent _gone!gone!gone!_ He sucked in a sharp breath at the thought of _why?why?why?_

_Because you’re a liability, that’s why_ , his mind told him while Pepper rambled about things that were probably important, but sounded so inane to Tony right now.

 

 _Because you’re broken and used, and they have use for neither_ , it added.

 

 _Bruce has been here for the last three days, Pepper said. Why would he do that for nothing?_ he reasoned.

 

 _Because they need you alive. They need your brain and your tech and your money, but never, never you_.

 

“…and I—Tony? Wait, you’re not supposed to—Tony!” Pepper yelled as Tony, without hesitation, pulled the wires off of him and, with a wince, the IV drip and slipped off the bed despite her attempt to grab him. He _needed_ to know. She had to run around the bed to attempt another grasp at him, so he was able to dodge her, but just barely. Though for having been restrained and otherwise incapacitated for the better part of three months, he was surprisingly agile anyway. It would later be attributed to the adrenaline rushing through him. In the meantime, he evaded Pepper’s grasp, ignoring the blaring monitors, and ran out of the room only to barrel into Bruce in the hallway.

 

There was a soft “oof!” as Bruce got the wind knocked out of him, but Pepper’s frazzled face came into view a second later, and he calmed enough to hear the softest whimper of words from the other scientist: a frantic mantra of Bruce’s name. Bruce wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders tightly without a thought, careful not to spill his coffee, murmuring words of comfort that were audible only to him. Tony’s hands fisted tightly into Bruce’s white lab coat, and his face was pressed into his neck.

 

“Shhh…” Bruce murmured, rubbing his hand over Tony’s back and pressing kisses to his hair. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re safe, we all are.” But then he comprehended the unintelligible garble of words and heard whimpers of “broken” and “don’t want” and “liability,” and his heart froze. The cup of coffee was dropped and allowed to soak into the carpet as Bruce hugged him even harder. “No. _No_ , Tony,” he said firmly, prying the genius away from his neck so that he could look properly into his face. “You’re _not_ a liability, and you’re _not_ broken. You’re _not_.” He kissed him hard enough to convey his sincerity and held onto the kiss until Tony’s tension lessened ever so slightly. “We want you. We’ll always want you,” he added in the same no-nonsense tone of voice. “You’re ours and nothing will change that— _nothing_ , unless you say so, but until you do, we’ll keep telling you.” He kissed the corners of Tony’s eyes where moisture had gathered and then kissed his cheeks and his mouth before tugging Tony’s head back down to press into his neck once more. He stroked Tony’s back and murmured soft reassurances until the tension that vibrated through him cleared away completely.

 

Through it, Pepper held his gaze, bewildered and alarmed and suspicious and not a little bit confused. Bruce shook his head minutely in what he hoped conveyed “we’ll fill you in later.” And thankfully, she nodded and silently excused herself.

 

“Let’s go back in, Tony,” he suggested. Tony only clutched at him tighter. “Steve and Thor should be on their way here. They would have been alerted by the alarms of the equipment in your room.” It was with that that a hesitance and guilt swept through the other man.

 

“I… I’m sorry, I just—”

 

“I know, but they won’t be happy. They’ll be scared for having thought the worst, so let’s go back in and show them it isn’t, okay?” Bruce had ushered Tony back into the bedroom just as, predictably, Steve and Thor came barrelling in through the doorway, panicked and terrified expressions on their faces. Tony’s eyes widened and then he was swept into a three-way hug.

 

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Steve chanted in heavy relief.

 

“We had thought the worst, Anthony,” Thor confessed, pressing kisses to his face and neck and shoulders. They were squeezing him tightly, just a little ways before reaching the lower limit of his pain tolerance, but Tony couldn’t be bothered to complain. He accepted their embrace with more relief than they probably felt.

 

“He had a brief moment of panic,” Bruce explained, watching as the three of them sank to the floor and hesitant to join in the fray until Steve held out a hand to him and then he went easily and willingly. “He’s fine,” Bruce repeated for all their sakes.

 

………………

 

A full debrief was inevitable, Tony knew. But his history of avoiding them unless absolutely necessary and the fact that this one was sure to be more personal than any of the others in the past made Tony dread it, so much so that he resorted to using the newfound affinity his teammates had for him to keep from having to go. But in doing so, he found out several things:

 

  1. Bruce would go all wibbly in the face of his pleading and would tend to suggest things that would help him somewhat get his way.
  2. Clint was still a snarky fuck to him but would subtly oppose anything that went against his wishes.
  3. Thor would outright fight for what he wanted, regardless of protocol.
  4. Natasha would follow protocol, regardless of what he wanted.
  5. Steve would choose whichever option that would benefit him most.
  6. Most importantly, though, was that the four of them would default to Steve’s decision if he spoke loudly and firmly enough.



 

Steve decided that it would be in his best interests to go to debrief—something about “closing out this chapter in his life”—and since, like the other four, Tony also defaulted to Steve’s decisions, he now found himself sitting in one of Stark Tower’s smaller conference rooms (one of the concessions Bruce was able to haggle for him because at least JARVIS could control the security recordings here). Nick sat at the head of the table with Maria and Phil flanking him. On either side of Tony were Bruce and Natasha while Steve, Clint and Thor sat on the other side of the table. They were all watching him, waiting for him to begin his version of the story.

 

None of his teammates had to be there, really, and Tony mentally debated if it was wise that he had allowed them especially considering how furious their expressions became the more his story progressed, despite the factual, nearly clinical tone he employed (he’d make a recommendation, but he was sure Nick already knew to double the security around Connor—not to keep him from escaping, but to keep him from being killed). Nevertheless, their presence was a comfort to him that he’d only ever found in Pepper and Rhodey and, sometimes, Happy—maybe even more than his closest friends—and their fury abated his fear and anger and humiliation. It was a strange and confusing feeling to be had, but one he welcomed over pain—be it emotional, mental or physical—any day.

 

After he had said his piece, Steve and Natasha gave their version of the events, and it was then that Tony had the sense of something being terribly wrong. The way they told it, they had gone a full one-eighty from a simple, purely professional relationship with each other and him to a six-way love fest in a span of an hour after Tony had been reunited with them. But even though he was there and he knew what had happened those three days, he couldn’t find it in himself to accept that it was so very, very wrong, that he didn’t deserve nor earn the emotions in him that they’re reciprocating readily and without question.

 

He listened, though, because Steve’s voice was intensely alluring.

 

“It was the smell coming off of him,” he was saying. “I could smell it very, very clearly, and it was so intoxicating. It smelled like…” He paused and struggled for a word to describe it. “It was thick and heady like… like…” His eyes screwed closed as he searched for the word that rested on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Like he needed to be fucked,” Clint put in eloquently, earning the ire of Phil, Maria and Nick. He only shrugged though because Steve was already nodding in agreement.

 

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah,” he said. “And then he came, and the smell intensified, and it was like something snapped in my head. Then everything just fell into place.” He stole a glance at Tony and gave him a brief, small smile, then turned back to his superiors. “The cuffs were released shortly after, but I could already see Natasha, Thor and Clint ready to attack.”

 

“Who were they going to attack?” Maria asked.

 

“Well, me, I suppose. Each other, maybe?” Steve dared a glance at his three teammates in question, but there was no sign of enmity between the four of them. What was left was only something akin to an old wound that had left an impressive scar—the kind of injury you would not hesitate to show off proudly, like Nick Fury and his eye patch. “I took down Thor first while Nat was taking Clint down and then I took her out.” His statement ended, but his tone suggested there was more to it. Of course there was, but Tony wondered why Steve was embarrassed about it now.

 

“Why?” Phil asked. He was dutifully taking notes, which was ridiculous because everything was in the security footage that Tony would eventually surrender under strict confidentiality contracts.

 

“Because they wanted Tony, and I couldn’t allow that,” Steve answered simply.

 

There was a small lull in the conversation until Nick nodded for him to continue. Steve answered the nod with one of his own while his voice smoothly shifted into his Cap voice, which he generally preferred to use in situations that made him uncomfortable and/or demanded professionalism. “I... made love to Tony,” he said carefully, choosing his words. Tony found that ridiculous and adorable because “made love”? Really? “It didn’t last too long—it couldn’t—but afterwards, I couldn’t pull out.” Steve shifted uncomfortably. “I felt my... _self_ swell and lock in him, and we were kind of stuck together for the next quarter of an hour.”

 

“They called it knotting,” Bruce chose to explain, based off of the seized files he had read and his own recent research and stocked knowledge on the subject. All eyes turned to him, some confused, some concerned, some indifferent—especially Nick, Maria and Phil who had themselves read Connor’s notes and the files Natasha, Clint and JARVIS managed to obtain.

 

“Like _knotting_ knotting?” Tony asked, blinking in bewilderment. He was familiar with the term, which only served to confuse him more. Bruce nodded and then turned to the others.

 

“It’s unique to the canine species. A male’s sex organ penetrates the female’s vulva before erection occurs. Once penetration is achieved, a specialized gland swells and hardens and locks the female to the male until his seed has been deposited. It takes up to half an hour after copulation for the swelling to recede,” he added for the benefit of everyone else.

 

“But... _why_?” Clint was the first to ask.

 

“Connors mentioned, when I saw him again a few weeks later, that he wanted Tony to be impregnated,” Steve said slowly.

 

“But Anthony is no female,” Thor thought to point out.

 

“Did the files we gathered mention any goal for this particular...” Natasha frowned sourly. “Experiment? I doubt that it would not have been written down anywhere.” Nick nodded and stood, drawing their attentions to him.

 

“There was,” he said. “Hydra was aiming to create and raise an army of werewolves that they could control and use for their own purposes. Battle, most likely, but possibly also for sport and just for the sake of scientific discovery.”

 

“What are werewolves?” Thor asked while the others mulled over their own questions.

 

“There are several variations of what they are, but the most accepted is that they are humans who take the form of wolves during the full moon,” Bruce explained. “They’re considered to be mythical creatures—ergo they don’t exist in our world. But,” Bruce shrugged. “Considering all the shit we’ve encountered ‘til now, I wouldn’t discard the idea of their existence just yet.”

 

“Ah,” Thor nodded. “I am familiar with the concept. In Asgard, we call them Ulfhednar, and they are very capable, very admirable warriors. My father is known to favour them in battle.”

 

“Well, then that answers the question ‘why werewolves.’ Schmidt had always been overly interested in Norse legends,” Steve said. “But why go through all the effort of kidnapping Tony and making him capable of birth and _then_ kidnapping the rest of us? Why not just take a woman and turn her into one? Also, why is there such a great emphasis on the next generation of werewolves instead of just infusing more people with the serum?”

 

“For your last question, Captain, it’s primarily a case of budget. The amount of money necessary to perform the experiment on a large scale would have been tremendous,” Phil answered. “And while Hydra isn’t known for following rules when it comes to usual business practices, obtaining the capital and inputs illegally means they wouldn’t be able to get under the radar while they readied their army. More importantly, it wouldn’t have been sustainable.” Steve nodded in understanding.

 

“Secondarily, there is a question of control. Turning adults into their own personal army requires a greater degree of complexity. There’s genetic and physical manipulation, first. Then they’d have to convince you—either through blackmail or brainwashing—to fight for their cause. And even if they managed to do so, they’d have to watch you more closely than any of their willing supporters in the event that their ‘convincing’ fails. A child is so much more easily manipulated.

 

“For your first and second question, though, while I’m not entirely sure, I suppose it had to do with your more attractive qualities. Imagine combining Mr. Stark’s brain with your body, Captain.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up and rewind,” Tony interrupted. “Are you telling us that we’re _werewolves_ now?” His incredulity was palpable, even though it shouldn’t have been. Not six months ago, they had fought against a Kraken-like monster, except that it was on land rather than at sea; werewolves weren’t the strangest thing they’d ever encounter. And if the time came that they _did_ happen upon werewolves, it would be just their luck to be bitten by one. So all in all, it wasn’t an impossibility.

 

“No. Or rather, not full-fledged ones anyway,” Bruce answered. “We won’t be turning into monsters during the next full moon, don’t worry. Or _you_ wouldn’t anyway; I would depend on whether or not I get angry at the time.” Tony shot him a sharp look, but discreetly placed his hand on Bruce’s thigh, squeezing it warningly and reassuringly. He didn’t like it when Bruce talked down about himself, and especially not now when there were _feelings_ between the two of them. The other scientist shot him a grateful smile and then turned back to the rest of the team. “Hydra had plans on turning our progeny into full-fledged ones because, as Agent Coulson said, it is easier to successfully manipulate the genes of foetuses than of adults. But for us, we’ve only taken on the reproductive characteristics of werewolves that they need to kick start the process.”

 

“Which are?”

 

“I can’t be too sure, but it couldn’t be different from actual wolves, though, seeing as that was Connor’s starting point with the serum. From what I’ve observed from us so far, there’s the pack mentality, first, with all its associating characteristics and behaviors, then there’s the hierarchical structure of packs, with Steve as our alpha. And then of course there’s the... uh... mating and the knotting,” Bruce said. There was a moment of silence as the information was allowed to sink in, and when the moment had passed, Nick turned back to Steve.

 

“Please proceed, Captain.” Steve nodded.

 

“It was two weeks before I saw him again, two weeks we spent talking and planning and… other things,” he was vaguely uncomfortable again, halfway between Captain America and Steve Rogers. “And then I was taken to him, to the room where we met when you came. The—” He scowled, and wasn’t that an endearing sight? “—Breeding Room.” Tony shifted minutely in his seat, a movement everyone saw and recognized for what it was, but they said nothing, for which he was grateful. “Connors told me that I was to take him as often as I needed to impregnate him. He said if I didn’t, if Tony failed to get pregnant, he would be given to the other test experiments… as a plaything.”

 

Steve’s eyes found Tony’s, and Tony’s breath caught in his throat. There was such _murder_ in them that Tony was half afraid to look away.

 

“I would have killed him then if I could have,” he promised, his voice nearly a hissed whisper. He stared straight at the genius as though the words were for him alone. Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, so Steve turned back to Nick, all traces of hesitance and uncertainty in them lost behind the dangerous darkness of his eyes.

 

“I had no choice but to obey Connors; I wasn’t going to call their bluff. And if it gave Tony even momentary respite…” he shrugged. “You picked us up two days after that.”

 

“There were no notes yet on the results of the… test?” Natasha asked, drawing Tony’s attention briefly. Phil and Bruce both shook their heads and that made Tony pause. He kept his hands firmly gripping the arms of his chair because rubbing his stomach would answer nothing.

 

“And the Red Skull?” Nick asked.

 

“Dead,” was Steve’s short, chilling answer. No one spoke. “I caught up to him at the hangar, just as he was about to load onto his plane.” Steve laughed humourlessly. “I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice, so I sent the shield into the back of the head of his driver and kept him on the tarmac. I don’t know if it was because he had just come back from the dead, or maybe I had just gotten stronger? Maybe it was the werewolf serum, I don’t know, but minutes later, I had him pinned beneath me, both his arms and one leg broken such that he couldn’t even think to escape or to fight back.” Steve paused. “For someone who had seen so much pain and death, for having caused it himself… he had such _fear_ on his face when I told him how I would kill him.

 

“I would have torn his heart right out of his chest—God knows he deserved much more than that—but I wasn’t sure whether he had one to begin with.” Steve laughed again, sharp and sarcastic, and just as humourless as the first. “Instead, I crushed his skull and snapped his neck.” They had all seen the blood on his hands.

 

Another silence engulfed the room, this one eerie and chilling.

 

“And what happens now?” Clint eventually dared to break the silence.

 

“Connor is in our custody for the foreseeable future. He will be made to assist in creating an antidote for the werewolf serum,” Maria answered.

 

“And my team?” Steve asked.

 

“You’ll be put under observation for battle-readiness and possibly tested to assist with the formulation of the antidote. I’ve also recommended that all of you see SHIELD psychiatrists immediately to deal with lingering mental effects of the captivity. And yes,” Nick shot Tony a sharp look before he could utter a word of process. “That means you, too, Stark. Especially you.” Tony settled for giving him a glare which Nick easily ignored. “After which, if you’ve been given the all-clear for active duty, you will be expected to return to your normal lives. Are there questions?” There were none. “Then you’re dismissed.” He nodded to all of them and left the room, followed closely by Maria.

 

“Barton?” Phil called, and Clint went to him immediately. Tony tried not to call him back. It helped that Thor had tugged him closer.

 

“How do you fare, _svass_?” he murmured in a soft tone that Tony hadn’t ever heard from him. One of his large hands cupped and caressed Tony’s cheek such that he couldn’t help but lean into it. He did manage to hold back a purr though because that would have been ridiculous.

 

“I’m fine, Shakespeare,” he answered, his witty tone clouded by contentment and delight. Thor pressed a kiss to his forehead and wrapped both arms around him, drawing him closer into his chest. There was a comfortable silence around them while they watched Thor stroke Tony’s back and so they were able to hear the very, very softly uttered, “Stay with me.”

 

“Oh, Tony,” Steve murmured and then they were all suddenly wrapped around him, squishing him mostly against Thor’s chest, but also hugging him hard and murmuring soft reassurances and promises that they wouldn’t leave him, not right now, not ever. And Tony couldn’t find it strange at all that this was about the hundredth group hug he’d received from a super soldier, a god, two assassins and a scientist when he had never been on the receiving end of one before, not when it felt so very, very good to be loved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't understand why it excites me when I post a new chapter, but it really does.
> 
> There's OT6 smut in this, FYI. I dunno what you plan to do with that knowledge, but knowledge is power, so yay?
> 
> Like always, thank you to Marie Rocket for the beta. :)

It was strange how quickly they settled into a routine—rather… strange for outsiders looking in at least. For the six of them, nothing felt more natural.

 

Almost immediately after he had made the offer, Tony had begun converting the five floors below his penthouse at Stark Tower into a space for each of them, sparing no expense to make it their own. Within a few days after the debriefing, though, they had taken up Tony’s bedroom—then the rest of his penthouse afterwards—as their own, and even though their floors had been completed only a month later, they rarely used them. It was fortunate, therefore, that Tony owned a bed big enough to accommodate an entire football team, much less six people.

 

They’d sleep with Bruce wrapped around Tony on one side and Natasha on the other with Clint sometimes behind Bruce, sometimes behind Natasha. Thor and Steve would take the outermost space with Steve closest the doorway. It was the somewhat excessive, maybe, the protection they aimed for but it was the safest Tony had ever felt, so he wasn’t going to complain.

 

One thing that… disappointed him? Bothered him maybe? was that every so often Clint would disappear from their bed. While it wasn’t strange for them to go to sleep all at different times, when Tony woke at two in the morning (and he _always_ woke at two in the morning), he’d only ever found Clint to be missing. He had yet to ask about it, though, because maybe, _maybe_ he was just a little bit afraid to find out that Clint didn’t want to be there, that only the serum forced him to stay, forced him to want Tony.

 

Instead, Tony showed him—showed _them_ —why it was worth their while to stay.

 

………………

 

Tony was the last up, as he usually was while he hadn’t yet resumed his post as CEO of Stark Industries. Pepper was still working out the details of his press release, so aside from the extended leave of absence, he was also confined to Stark Tower for the time being lest he be accosted by the paparazzi camped out at the base of the tower—not that they’d be able to do anything untoward to him with his five lovers keeping such a close eye.

 

He was greeted with a cup of coffee and a smile from Bruce who he answered with a soft kiss on the cheek, mindful of his morning breath. Steve sat a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of him almost as soon as he had sat down, which he was grateful for because, despite the fact that he could and _had_ lived off of protein bars and expensive scotch for days at a time, he really did love a proper breakfast. He showed his appreciation by wolfing it down as quickly as he could, and the beaming smile Steve sent him made it only more worth it.

 

Clint was there that morning, chugging down his own mug of coffee and cheerfully working his way through some baked beans. He’d been missing from bed since the night before, but Tony refrained from voicing his displeasure at that—he’d take whatever Clint was willing to give and ask for nothing more. When they’d both finished up their meals, Clint slid his arm around Tony’s waist and drew him onto his lapto plant a good one on his lips. Tony smiled in relief against his mouth and responded by grinding their growing erections against each other, moaning as they went. They were so lost in a haze of lust that Tony would have almost missed Thor’s “good morn, Son of Coul,” but Clint jerked away sharply, pulling Tony out of his haze as he tried not to feel hurt at the action.

 

“Phil,” the archer said, less in greeting and more like… guilt? Phil only shrugged and took a seat beside Natasha while Steve fixed him up a plate of his own as naturally as though it wasn’t his first time to have breakfast with them as was the case.

 

“How did _you_ get in? Don’t I need to give an invitation before vampires can enter my home?” Tony asked from his perch on Clint’s lap. He ignored the way the archer shifted beneath him. Phil, though, levelled him an unimpressed look.

 

“I assure you, Mr. Stark, even if I had been a vampire, any invitation would be quite unnecessary,” he answered, bringing a slice of bacon to his mouth and chewing pointedly, and yeah, he had a point. Tony bravely rolled his eyes anyway.

 

“Don’t make it a habit. I don’t recall extending my offer to you anyway,” he said. Phil’s smile was mysterious and coupled with Natasha’ scoff made Tony fear for his life very briefly. But no, he was confident that Phil thought him necessary enough to keep him alive and the others would protect him if Phil didn’t. He gave a pointed and meaningful look to the agent then turned his back to him, wrapping his arms around Clint’s neck. Clint’s hands squeezed his hips lightly and he gave him a brief half-smile, but Tony couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept darting to Phil, especially when Tony leaned closer to kiss him and he broke the kiss almost as soon as it had started.

 

“Tony…” he murmured softly. It was a warning, it was an apology, it was a plea, and it made Tony’s eyes suddenly widen in understanding.

 

He had designed bombs with less information than this—it didn’t take his genius to put two and two together, but when he _did_ , he slid himself off of Clint’s lap and stumbled a few steps back. The others’ eyes followed him, but he ignored them.

 

“Tony,” Clint said again, the apology clear in his tone this time. Tony looked between him and Phil and then said:

 

“You’re with him.”

 

It wasn’t a question because he _knew_ , and Phil’s face, grim and serious, seemed to confirm it. He looked to Natasha who said and did nothing to confirm or deny it, then to the rest of them who were watching him, motionless as though he were a deer who would startle and sprint away at the slightest movement. Overwhelming emotion smothered him, but he couldn’t pinpoint one exact emotion he felt. Guilt, sadness, confusion, jealousy were all at war in him, and then there was fear—fear because they had _lives_ beyond him because they were only _forced_ to want him because of Hydra, because of the serum and nothing more and when SHIELD finally managed to create the antidote, they’ll return to their lives, and he’ll go back to his miserable, lonely one.

 

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered and then turned to run out of the room, forgetting that there were two and a half meta-humans and three spies in there with him.

 

Steve was the closest and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. Tony struggled for a moment against the grasp before turning to see who held him. In the face of Steve’s concern, but more importantly, strength, he sagged in defeat and allowed the super soldier to pull him close to his chest where he was enveloped in an embrace.

 

“What are you sorry for?” he asked softly, encouraging Tony to press his face in his chest, which Tony did if only for the excuse to not have to answer the question. “Does Clint’s relationship with Phil bother you? I can make them stop.” It was a whisper meant for Tony alone that he knew everyone else heard and guilt ate at him as he considered the tempting, tempting offer because if Clint had nothing to return to, then surely he’d choose to stay with Tony forever. He knew Steve had the power and Clint would be willing to make that happen as soon as he said ‘yes.’

 

But he didn’t because he may have been an egotistical narcissist, but he wasn’t a horrible person—or he tried not to be rather. He shook his head emphatically though he didn’t lift it from the muscled chest.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said instead. “None of you. You don’t want to be here, not really, and you wouldn’t have if that whole mess with Hydra hadn’t happened.” Steve’s arms squeezed tighter around him, but he continued to speak the same words that he had uttered many times before in the last week since they had been saved. “And when SHIELD reverses the serum, you won’t stay, you won’t want to, because you never needed me before all this, you never wanted me because… because I’m me.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt a hand grip his bicep so tightly that he winced, and then he was jerked sharply out of Steve’s arms. The soldier would have protested, but he was faced with Natasha’s darkest look. She forced Tony to his knees between herself and her team leader and levelled a glare at him that would have junior agents wetting themselves.

 

“Nat—,” Tony started.

 

“No,” she said firmly. She never needed to raise her voice. “You’ll speak only when you’re told to.” Tony pressed his lips together and nodded, so she turned to face everyone else. “We’ve been coddling him. For the last week, we’ve been walking on eggshells around him and coddling him and allowing him to dwell on these ridiculous thoughts.” Expressions that varied from uncertainty to reluctant agreement answered her. “And frankly, all our reassurances and actions have done little to make him think otherwise. So I think that’s enough.” She turned to the man on the floor.

 

“You don’t understand why we stay and you don’t believe that we will after everything is over with,” she told him. He didn’t acknowledge the truth in her words even though she was spot on with her assessment. The others knew as much anyway, so his confirmation would be redundant. She bent closer to him and tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It’s because you think so little of yourself that you think that you don’t deserve to be given this—” She gestured around the room. “—so freely.” Tony was silent because Natasha had said so, but he wanted to explain. Instead, he dropped his eyes to the floor. “You act loud and arrogant and immature and aloof and prideful in front of everyone because you believe that you _are_ all of that,” she continued. “And you hate yourself for it.” Tony’s eyes snapped up to her clear, narrowed ones, but he swallowed and said nothing.

 

“So, we’re going to change that.” Natasha drew herself up and propped a hand on her hip. “You’re going to stop acting the way you do in front of everyone, but first, in front of us. You’re going to work for and earn every touch, every kiss, every word of praise by changing from the Tony Stark you think you are into the Tony Stark you think we want.”

 

“That’s dangerous, Nat,” Bruce cut in gently. “No one has the right to decide what another person should be.” Natasha turned a dark look at him.

 

“And allowing him to think badly of himself, allowing him to think we’ll eventually abandon him, are those better, Bruce?” she asked testily. “Do you want him to look at you and see what he can’t have and push you away just to give himself the impression of saving himself from pain? Is _that_ better?” Bruce took a small step back at her snarl, unconsciously stepping closer toward Steve. Natasha glanced at the soldier very briefly to take note of the warning in his eyes and in his stance and then turned back to Tony. Her snarl was gone and a soft look in its place as she dropped to her knees before him, caressed his cheek and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

 

“You’re going to be so good for us, won’t you, Tony? And when you’re finally convinced that we _do_ want you more than we’ve ever wanted anything, you’re going to be even better, won’t you?” she murmured sensually, drawing him closer to her and kissing him again, and he couldn’t help but kiss her back until she pushed him gently away to allow him to answer her.

 

“Yes, Natasha,” he said. There was a speculative look in her eye, and then she leaned closer to whisper in his ear. His eyes widened at the instruction, and he resisted the urge to blush furiously because he was still Tony Stark _dammit_. He took a second longer to respond, though, and that earned him an amused smirk from Natasha. She kissed him again, deeper this time that purposely left him breathless. “Yes... mistress,” he repeated, dropping his eyes and succumbing to the blush that burned beneath his skin.

 

Her amused gaze flickered up to the other men, taking in their reactions that varied from flustered (Bruce), to amused (Clint), to pleased (Thor), to speculative (Steve). She wasn’t surprised that Phil had slipped away, nor was she concerned for him; he could handle himself.

 

“Good boy,” she murmured, her tone full of promise, when her gaze settled back down on Tony. She stroked his pink cheek and kissed it again before standing up and sliding back onto the chair beside Clint. “Stay there,” she ordered. “And when we’re all done here, we’re going back to the bedroom to...” She trailed off, humming in thought. “Talk” was what she finally decided on a few seconds later.

 

………………

 

And they did talk, for a good two hours at least, about rules and safewords and triggers and rewards, things that Tony and Clint and Natasha were intimately familiar with—from personal preference and the requirements of the line of work of the two spies—but that Thor and Steve and Bruce had to be introduced to.

 

Bruce was the most familiar of the three with the concept from an objective standpoint, but had never been in such a scenario before. Thor understood via the Asgardian perspective of consorts and harems and slaves, but nothing about how humans approached it. For Steve, though, this was the first he’d heard of it. Though he wasn’t unfamiliar with some of the… activities mentioned, the overall concept, the entirety of the relationship was not something he’d ever encountered.

 

Clint climbed on his lap where he sat on the couch and pressed his lips to Steve’s ear in a kiss.

 

“Just do what you feel is right, Cap, whatever you want. This whole thing is designed for your— _our_ —pleasure. He derives his from ours,” he explained. “He’ll tell you when to stop; you remember our safeword right?”

 

“Elmo,” Steve answered automatically. His hand almost unconsciously moved to cup Clint’s ass, and the archer moaned very softly and started grinding himself against the other man.

 

“Yeah, ‘Elmo.’ You can always ask, if you’re not sure, for a color: green means keep going, yellow means he’s okay but you shouldn’t continue, and red means stop. Easy.” Steve nodded once and allowed the conversation to come to a natural end. He pressed a kiss to Clint’s neck, but his eyes strayed to Tony who was kneeling on the floor before them, naked and aroused, and he couldn’t help the pleasured growl that escaped him. It was Clint who moaned in response, and he tipped his head to the side to allow Steve to continue with ease.

 

Natasha stepped around Tony and pressed herself onto Steve’s side, her hands deftly plucking at the buttons of Clint’s shirt to expose his shoulder for the captain. When she had done so, she slid her hand between them and up under Steve’s shirt to caress at his chest, murmuring at Clint all the while. “Slut,” she said, a hint of teasing in her tone that served to put a small grin on Clint’s face. “Look how much he wants it, Cap. He’d beg for it if you weren’t already giving it to him.” One of Steve’s arms made its way around Natasha’s waist, and he pulled back from Clint’s neck to press a languorous kiss onto her lips.

 

He broke away to shush Clint’s complaints briefly and to make sure Thor and Bruce weren’t left out—Thor had pulled Bruce to sit on his lap, much like Clint was on Steve. He considered allowing Tony to join them, but decided to say instead, “Watch us, Tony. And don’t touch yourself.” Tony pouted prettily, but clasped his hands behind his back. Satisfied, Steve turned back to Natasha who had pulled off her shirt.

 

It wasn’t the first time Steve had seen her undressed—far, _far_ from it really—but the sight of the pale creamy skin always made him want to press his mouth to it, and since there was not a single reason to prevent him from doing so, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the top of the mound of her breast. He felt her fingers slide easily into his hair, curling into the strands while Clint slid off of his lap.

 

After he did, it was almost too easy to replace him with her; she was so light and almost delicate that he needn’t even exert any effort at all to draw her onto his legs. She managed to slide her pants off in a manoeuvre that seemed almost natural and part of the motion to settle herself on him. Behind her, Clint reclaimed his perch on Steve’s knees and pressed his mouth to her skin. She moaned softly and rolled her head back to rest on Clint’s shoulder while she undid the button of Steve’s pants.

 

He was hard when she drew him out, how could he not be? Then both Clint’s and her hand wrapped around his length and stroked him. He was unable to hold in a moan of his own but he made sure to return the favour by squeezing Clint’s ass and slipping his fingers into Natasha’s wet panties between her spread legs.

 

“Can you take us?” Clint murmured while he cupped her breast with one hand and squeezed it lightly. Natasha rolled her head so that she could press a kiss to Clint’s cheek.

 

“Even if I didn’t think I could, I still would,” she answered then both their eyes flickered to Steve as if in question, but he had no idea what they were talking about.

 

“What?” he asked. Natasha’s lips quirked up on one side.

 

“Would you, captain, like to fuck me while he does too?” she asked gently, and Steve’s eyebrows shot up because they could _do_ that? How? Fortunately, he didn’t have a chance to make a fool of himself over the concept because behind Clint, Tony choked and then let out a whimper. All of them turned to see him bucking his hips against nothing.

 

“You’re killing me,” he whined, shifting and fidgeting in place. His eyes found Steve’s. “Please, _please_. Please let me touch, Steve. Please?” Steve wasn’t sure what he wanted to touch, but he begged so _beautifully_ , so he just nodded and watched while Tony scrambled over to Bruce before turning his attention back to his two lovers on his lap.

 

Tony couldn’t help but settle himself between both Bruce’s and Thor’s legs where the scientist was on the god’s lap, the latter’s cock sunk in the former, because Bruce’s cock was put so beautifully on display, untouched by either of the men. It was thick and hard and flushed, and it bobbed heavily as Thor fucked into him. Bruce’s head was tilted back against Thor’s shoulder and his hands sunk in the arms of the chair, completely ignoring himself, and Tony so irrationally took pity on his neglected cock and easily wrapped his mouth around it. The cry wrung from the scientist, coupled with the hand that pulled suddenly and sharply at his hair, made Tony all the more eager to please him.

 

He teased and sucked and licked at Bruce’s cock and balls—and he knew he was so very, very good at that—while Thor took him apart from the inside. The thought of Thor’s girth stretching Bruce appealed to him so immensely that he sneaked a hand behind Bruce’s balls, caressing his perineum briefly, to stroke the point where they were joined. Both men above him let out sounds of pleasure at the contact, and it spurred Thor to increase his efforts to get Bruce completely undone. Then Tony teasingly dipped the tip of his finger into the stretched hole beside Thor and “Tony!” was all the warning he got before the other scientists pulsed into his mouth.

 

Tony had given a blowjob before—tons—but this, _this_ was a completely different and strange experience every time it happened, and it was an experience Tony could honestly not get enough of. But then it could be the serum talking, so maybe he was just a little bit biased. Ignoring that, Tony focused on the knot that swelled against his tongue and teeth and the slow, nearly constant pulse of come that filled his mouth. He licked around the bulb at the base of Bruce’s cock without pulling his mouth off because Bruce was still coming, slow and sluggish like a nicked vein, and Tony drank him down. He had wondered, as he did now, if he could live off just this, just the come of his lovers and was quite positive he could—he was certainly more than willing to test out the hypothesis. The idea spread heat through his skin and tugged at his cock, and he indulged in the image it afforded him while Bruce sated himself in Tony’s mouth and the others sated themselves in each other.

 

When Bruce gently tugged him off minutes or hours later, Clint pulled him away from the scientist and towards the other sofa where Natasha was sprawled, legs spread. Tony spied her sopping cunt through his blissful haze and attached his mouth to her without prompting. She tasted of come, Steve’s and Clint’s, and her own familiar taste that Tony couldn’t get enough of, so he buried his face in her and licked the insides of her channel, sucking out the mix of liquids that filled her.

 

She moaned and cursed and pulled at his hair while he pleasured her. Come smeared at his lips and ran down his chin, but he ate her out dutifully and eagerly until the hand in his hair tightened so harshly and she came, rutting her cunt against his mouth. And when she whimpered so very, very softly against oversensitivity and pushed him back, Tony felt himself being tugged closer to another who he realized to be Steve.

 

The soldier cupped the back of his neck and pulled him harshly towards him so that he could press his mouth to the genius’s and taste him and the fluids that still stained his mouth. Tony whimpered against his lips, low and needy and begging, and Steve was still of the firm opinion that Tony begged beautifully even when he said nothing. He picked the older man off the floor and spread him out on the coffee table, dipping his fingers between the globes of his ass to check the slickness of his hole.

 

“Steve. Steve, _please_ ,” Tony whined, pushing back against the fingers that stroked him. “Please don’t tease. Please. I need you.” He shut his eyes and bared his throat, a move that was half calculated to spur Steve into action and half natural supplication to his leader. Steve’s fingers left him, but he felt the bigger man shift to hover over him, stroking his throat once before clamping his teeth onto the proffered flesh, and then Steve’s cock was breaching him, and he whimpered high in his throat, asking for _more_.

 

“God, Tony. You’re so beautiful like this,” Steve was murmuring above him, but Tony could hardly focus on that when his cock was pounding in his ass. “You’re so beautiful when you’re begging to be taken, when you show how much you love your hole filled, and you’re even more gorgeous when it is, when your ass is full of cock and come and you’re still begging for more.” Tony gripped the edges of the table as leverage to push back against Steve, and Steve, noticing the motion, gripped Tony’s hips to intensify his thrusts. There were going to be bruises in half an hour on his hips and probably his ass as well, and he expected he wouldn’t be able to sit right for the next few days, but that was _fine_ —more than fine—because it would be the good kind of sore that would keep him half hard and leaking wet all day. Steve cursed when Tony clenched around him, but Tony didn’t have time to marvel at that because Steve’s next words made him cry out in pleasure and delight. “One of these days…” he was saying. “One of these days, you’re going to be carrying, and you’ll be swollen with child, but you’re still going to beg on bended knee to be filled, won’t you?” Tony sobbed an affirmative. “And we’re going to fuck you and fill you up and make you beg for more because you’re so beautiful when you beg.”

 

“Yes. _Yes_. God, Steve, yes,” Tony cried, cupping Steve’s chin and pulling him in for a kiss. Steve obliged him though his thrusts barely slowed.

 

“I can’t begin to express how much I want to see you carrying our child, Tony,” he murmured while he reached between them to stroke Tony’s cock and earn himself a sharp cry from the other man while his other hand settled on top of Tony’s stomach pointedly. “I want to see your belly swollen and know that you’re going to give us a baby.” He nuzzled Tony’s ear tenderly as though he weren’t picking the genius apart piece by piece.

 

“SteveSteveSteve, please,” Tony begged through a stream of incoherent babble.

 

“Shhh, yes. Take it, Tony,” Steve murmured sweetly, and if Tony hadn’t been devolved into incoherency, he would have marvelled at how cool and confident and seductive Steve sounded as he whispered that. Right now, though, all he could focus on was the burning in the pit of his stomach as his orgasm neared with every one of Steve’s thrusts. It was almost by accident that when Steve murmured, “you can come, Tony,” that he cried out and spilled into Steve’s hand.

 

When his orgasm subsided seconds later, he felt Steve pulsing in him, his knot filling him and stretching him. Around Steve, the other Avengers watched him with dark, lust-filled eyes that promised good things to come, so for now, for now, he allowed Steve to pick him up and move him to the bed, and he allowed them all to crowd around him and press kisses to his skin, and he allowed his mind and body to find pleasure in Steve’s words.

 

He’ll remember, later, to fret and rage at the changes in him borne of the serum, but for now, for now, he allowed himself to want this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you hadn't figured it out yet, Phil's the 7th in the OT7. I planned on introducing him to the group here, but eventually decided against it. Maybe in the next chapter. Haven't begun it yet though so I can't promise it's going to be quick.
> 
> I have a bunch of other fics I'm planning to put up soon, so if you'd like, maybe those could tide you over while you wait (shameless plug? Yes. yes, it is.).
> 
> X


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible, horrible person. I've been so preoccupied with real life and with the Cap-Ironman RBB that it's taken me a while to even _think_ of updating this, and when I finally found the time to do so, I bang out the chapter in a hurry.
> 
> Unbeta'd as of yet because there's a serious need of *update* and *now* but betaing will definitely be happening soon. Hopefully, it's acceptable as is for now.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I’m going to have a drink. Do you want a drink?”

 

“Are you allowed to even do that?”

 

A shrug.

 

“Probably not. I’m pretty sure it’s against my code, actually. I might get sacked—if I’m lucky—or my license could get revoked. At the very worst, I could probably get thrown in jail. But we’ve been sitting here in almost complete silence for the last ten days, and we’ve gotten precisely nowhere. I, Mr. Stark, am having a drink. Would. You. Like one?”

 

Tony frowned in contemplation. There were too many “probably”s in that sentence for it to qualify as the truth; in fact, he figured Nick most likely authorized her to use any reasonable means to get him back in proper working order, plying him with alcohol included. What perplexed him, though, was his answer to her question. While Nick hardly cared about Tony’s alcohol intake beyond how it affected his performance as Iron Man, Pepper and, more recently, his team—his pack—certainly had a lot to say about it—“say” in the most metaphorical of senses of course.

 

He’d noticed, at first, how the alcohol in his hand would casually be stolen by Clint or Thor or even Steve and would be replaced with an offering of Bruce’s sparkling cider. And then he started noticing how the alcohol around the tower started to “mysteriously disappear” (he knew Clint and Natasha were instructed to dispose of it, really). But it was only when his private stash was suddenly emptied that he asked about it. He never did get his answer because Bruce had coaxed him into a kiss almost immediately after he had asked it, and he didn’t ask again because he had already deduced the answer. He found that he didn’t mind that at all.

 

“Sure,” he told his psychiatrist, and she handed him a tumbler with about two fingers of scotch. It wasn’t the good kind, of course, but it was acceptable for the time being.

 

“I’m actually rather confused about why you’re here at all. There’s certainly nothing stopping you from refusing these sessions—you’ve done so before,” she continued casually, as if making simple small talk. She’d been doing the same thing for the past ten sessions to which Tony didn’t feel the need to respond. But a warmth was spreading through his chest as the scotch made its way down his throat.

 

“Steve told me to come,” he said in an almost offhand manner. Maybe plying him with alcohol was the way to go after all. She tilted her head.

 

“Does Steve make you do a lot of things?” she asked again. Tony shrugged.

 

“He makes all of us do things. That’s why he’s the alph—he’s the leader.” He knew she heard him slip—how could she not? But he was grateful nonetheless that she didn’t choose to call him out on it.

 

“True,” she hummed in reply then sipped on her own scotch and leaned back against the chair, saying nothing further. Her gaze drifted out the window in a leisurely manner while Tony inadvertently recalled their conversation to analyze how it had come off to her.

 

“It’s not _bad_ , I mean,” he added, worried about how his words sounded to an outsider. “He doesn’t make me—us— _us_ do things we don’t really want to do.” She looked back at him and nodded in agreement.

 

“Of course not. I don’t think the Captain is that kind of man,” she said. “I’m sure he asks you to do only what is necessary, especially if it’s contrary to what you want.”

 

“Exactly,” Tony agreed.

 

“But why _do_ you obey him so easily?” she asked further. Tony frowned.

 

“Because he’s my team leader,” he answered with a small moue. He knew what she was doing, and he didn’t like it.

 

“You haven’t done so before, though,” she pointed out. This time, Tony refused to speak and instead looked away. “Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked, ignoring his unwillingness to participate. He knew then he had fed her her foothold, her opening, and that she wasn’t going to let it go. “Aren’t you bothered about your sudden change of heart? You’ve never felt the need to attend these sessions before, never felt the need to obey the Captain. Aren’t you bothered by the fact that you’re no longer the same man you used to be before all this?”

 

“NO!” Tony suddenly yelled, slamming the tumbler on the table beside him. She sat back, quiet and waiting, and Tony clenched his hand around the tumbler tighter, his gaze drawn to it. “No,” he repeated more quietly this time.

 

He didn’t speak for several minutes after that, but she was a patient woman—proven by his numerous past sessions that had been conducted in near silence—so he knew she wasn’t going to let him go, to clear him for missions until he spoke.

 

After a great amount of thought, eventually he said, his gaze still on the amber of what remained of the scotch, “I don’t like shrinks.” He swirled the glass absently. “I got sent to them a lot as a kid, and they kept telling me and implying that there’s something wrong with me that they’re going to fix. But for me, there wasn’t _anything_ wrong with me, and I resented the implication that there was.

 

“After my parents died, I managed to avoid them altogether. No one could force me to go, not Rhodey, not Pepper, not Obie when he wasn’t the rat-faced bastard I finally found out he was. I clung to that childish thought that there was _nothing wrong with me_ all through the rest of my life, even after Afghanistan, even after Obie, even after the Chitauri because if I gave in and allowed myself to see another shrink, I would know—for sure—what I’ve known all along.” He paused for a long enough moment that she prompted:

 

“And what is that?” He lifted his gaze into hers.

 

“That there _is_ something wrong with me. That I’m broken and useless and awful and a miserable excuse for a human being,” he answered evenly, betraying not a single emotion if he hadn’t let out a breath that was just this side of ragged. “And so I avoid shrinks when I can.

 

“But the thing is—the _thing_ is I eventually _did_ realize that I was all that: that I _was_ broken and useless and awful and pathetic, and it wasn’t a shrink that helped me realize it.” He shook his head at the memory just as she asked, “And who helped you realize that?” He chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“Natasha did,” he said. She leaned back against her chair once more, contemplative, folding her hands neatly over her lap. “She put me on my knees and told me that I was loud and arrogant and immature, and she told me that I hated myself.” He scoffed lightly. “She was right of course because there is very little that Natasha is wrong about. Then she told me to change; she told me that I was going to be the kind of person I think they wanted me to be—her and the rest of the team. She told me I was going to have to work to earn their approval.”

 

“And that doesn’t bother you? That she wants you to be what _they_ want rather than what _you_ want? Doesn’t it bother you that they’re using you and forcing you to change however they see fit, but that you cannot expect the same courtesy in return? Doesn’t it bother you that, after all that you’ve experienced in the hands of Hydra, they’re asking you to do almost the exact same thing by pushing you into this Dominant-submissive relationship that you have going on?” She sat up straighter. “Mr. Stark, I have been made aware of all that had been going on since you were taken up until today; I have been tasked to help you and your team process these experiences such that there will remain no lingering effects of your capture and the subsequent changes you were forced to undergo in your captivity. _These_ are those effects that we will need to eliminate to restore your self to its former glory, to get you back in the field: your unnatural submission to your team members, your irrational need to please them, your willingness to change your very nature to suit their desires—”

 

“And what makes you think that going back to who I was is what I want? Is what’s better for me and for everyone else? Who are you to decide that for me?” he interrupted, quiet, deadly. The look Tony gave her was positively _dripping_ with poison, and she said nothing. “I hated myself. I hated myself, and no one noticed but them. They noticed, and, what’s more, they called me out on it. They made me realize that I should _stop_ being that person because I _hate_ that person. They told me to change, to be what they want because they _knew_ —they knew that what they want is what I want.”

 

“Connors’ serum—”

 

“Connors’ serum may have nothing to do with it, and it may have everything to do with it. But you know what? I don’t care! I want this—I want _them_ more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. And I hate that they’re working on an antidote, I hate that eventually they’re not going to want me anymore when it’s gone, and I hate that I may revert back into the person I was, but for now, I want this and I want them even if it means giving up everything I’ve ever known about myself, even if it means I have to beg for their favour on bended knee, even if it means I submit myself to each and every one of their whims.”

 

“Mr. Stark—”

 

“Let me put it this way,” he said, cutting her off once more. “Any one of them only has to ask, and I’d _gladly_ strap myself back up to the bench for them.” He let that revelation hang in the air for a moment.

 

“I’ve told you that I didn’t like talking to shrinks because they keep telling me that they’re going to fix what’s wrong with me. Back then, I was a child, and I thought nothing was wrong with me, and as an adult, I clung to that childish thought,” he said calmly. “Now, I’ve realized that they were right all along, but you see, everything that they were thinking was wrong with me? They’ve _already_ been fixed; only now, you’re telling me that the _solution is the problem_.

 

“Ms. Margoulis, do forgive me, but I don’t think you know what the _fuck_ you’re talking about.” Tony stood slowly, brushing imaginary lint off the front of his suit, while she stammered for something to say. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “If you’ll excuse me, I think we’re quite done here.” He turned to leave, stopping at the door very briefly to say, “Don’t expect me back tomorrow.”

 

………………

 

He was supposed to hang around after his therapy session to work on some exercises with some of the SHIELD trainers like he’d been doing for the past few days. He knew it was a barely concealed ploy to assess his battle readiness, but he didn’t mind all that much in light of having nothing better to do since he had yet to take the company back from Pepper. Besides, the rest of the team went through them anyway with minimal to no fuss, and he didn’t want to disappoint them.

 

This time around, though, he strode through the hallways full of purpose such that none of the agents milling around would think of stopping him and headed toward the entrance where Happy was waiting to take him home.

 

He wasn’t particularly bothered by the purpose of the session, not even when Margoulis had told him outright that she was trying to get him to stop wanting his pack and turn him back into Tony Fucking Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. What he was more disconcerted by was that he was able to pinpoint exactly what he felt about his relationship with the rest of them and what exactly he wanted from it.

 

It had been bothering him like a little voice niggling at him in the back of his brain, telling him that it wasn’t _normal_ to want them so completely, so intensely, so suddenly. He’d spent a fair amount of time wondering if the intricacies of their relationship were right for him and _healthy_ for them, especially after all that they’ve been put through— _he’s_ been put through. But he himself said it out loud and in front of a witness: he couldn’t explain how and he couldn’t explain why, but he’d gladly bend over backwards just to please them.

 

Somehow, it seemed, he had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with his teammates.

 

He held that thought in the forefront of his mind while he exited the car, ascended to the top of the tower and made his way into the living room. He felt… _light_ for lack of a better word and—at the risk of sounding like a sappy, love-struck fool—felt as though he was floating serenely through the throng of people he passed, such that he didn’t even notice most of them, even those who actively tried to gain his attention.

 

In fact, it wasn’t until he found himself standing in front of Phil, who was sat on the sofa while going through a whole mess of files, that he realized he had gotten home at all. Phil looked up at him, both eyebrows raised in question. His presence brought Tony out of the clouds and grounded him a little bit. For a moment, while he collected his thoughts, he said nothing and simply returned Phil’s stare evenly.

 

The agent confused him, which was a normal reaction toward Phil really, but maybe more than that, Tony was confused about how he felt toward him.

 

When they’d first met, Phil was nothing but a fly, buzzing around him and being mildly annoying. When Obie happened, Tony was mildly grateful toward him for protecting Pepper. When Justin Hammer happened, Phil was an almost usual occurrence in Pepper’s proximity and, by association, Tony’s. The attack on New York had made Phil a symbol, a goal, a purpose, and in his return and subsequent Avengers missions, he’d become a constant presence in Tony’s daily life, so much so that Tony considered backtalking him over comms a ritual and a source of amusement and joy.

 

And then Hydra happened and he’d found out about him and Clint, and Tony was completely lost.

 

He wanted Clint to be happy in the same way that he wanted all of them to be happy, and Clint was never not happy when he was with them, or if he was, it certainly didn’t show. But Tony couldn’t help but put himself in Clint’s shoes, wondering how it felt to have your relationship messed with by forces beyond your control, and he put himself in Phil’s shoes, wondering how it felt to suddenly have to share your lover with others and be completely okay with sitting on the sidelines. It couldn’t be good, and so Tony believed that that didn’t make Clint as happy as he could be, and that didn’t sit right with him.

 

“I still don’t recall giving you permission,” he said. Phil stared at him, intense in a way that Tony knew he was trying to read him. Then Phil’s eyes flicked back to the papers in his hand, and he answered blandly.

 

“And yet to my utter surprise, here I am.” Tony laughed lightly and threw himself on the couch beside the older man, nonchalantly insinuating his head on Phil’s thigh. The agent stiffened beneath him for a moment before he relaxed and glared down at the CEO. “There are approximately three other sofas in this room alone, Tony.”

 

“My house, Phil,” Tony reminded him in a sing song voice. “I can choose whichever couch I want. _You_ can move.” But Phil didn’t, and they spent half an hour in silence where Tony pretended to doze off and Phil pretended to work.

 

“I don’t mind, you know,” Phil suddenly said softly. Tony’s eyes were closed, but his breathing picked up slightly.

 

“I know,” he answered without opening his eyes. A pause.

 

“I can go,” Phil offered. Tony shook his head.

 

“Stay.”

 

The word hung between them in the silence of the empty room until Tony opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows to catch Phil’s mouth in a kiss. He knew Phil wasn’t surprised by the action—little could surprise him—but it was the intention that stilled him. His lips were unresponsive against him, even as Tony pressed harder and sucked gently on them. He lifted one hand to rest on the back of Phil’s neck, not tugging him closer but just letting him know that he’d meant what he said.

 

Stay.

 

And then Tony felt a hand press against the back of his head and another rest on his hip, and Phil was kissing him back.

 

Like everything about him, the way he kissed was methodical, precise and unassuming, but Tony could feel an underlying strength beneath. He moaned when a tongue flicked against his lips and shifted into the agent’s lap while the inside of his mouth was traced and mapped. Phil’s hand moved from his head to the back of his suit jacket, tugging him closer so very slightly, as though unsure if such action would be received well. Tony showed him that it _was_.

 

“Stay,” he repeated for Phil’s sake—and for his—when they had parted. He pressed his forehead against the agent’s, watching his eyes for any sign of disagreement. The other man shut his eyes.

 

“I’m not like you,” Phil said. “I don’t know how to be what you are to each other.”

 

“I’m not buying that,” Tony said seriously, and then a little more humorously, “You’re _Phil Coulson_. I’ve yet to hear of something you cannot do. I’ve witnessed you making Hulk obey detailed orders. I’ve seen you make Nat smile. You’ve talked Clint out of doing stupid things hundreds of times—and me just as many, which that right there is pretty solid evidence that you can do anything.” Phil huffed a small laugh. Then Tony’s voice dropped into a breathy baritone. “I’m pretty sure you can work out how best to get me on my knees for you.”

 

“Jesus, Tony,” Phil breathed out, shutting his eyes and grasping Tony’s hip tightly. The genius almost smiled triumphantly when he felt the press of Phil’s growing erection against his. “We don’t even know if the rest of them—Steve, Thor and Bruce—will agree.”

 

“And Nat. Don’t forget Nat, too,” Tony reminded him. This time, Phil peeked an eye open and smirked.

 

“I don’t think Natasha’s going to be a problem,” he said cryptically, and Tony’s jaw dropped.

 

“You totally did it with her,” he said, but the knowing grin never wavered. “Her _and_ Clint?! Oh, Phil, you kinky _dog_!” Tony crowed with delight. Phil chuckled along with him, and then they were kissing again, hot and hard and full of meaning, and when they pulled apart, Tony added with a touch of seriousness, “They’re not going to say no, Phil. I _know_ they won’t, so can we at least try? Please?” The sigh Phil gave was heavy and reluctant, but in the end, he nodded anyway, and that was all that really mattered.

 

………………

 

Tony’s back was pressed up the length of Phil’s side when the rest of them came home late that afternoon. They had made out some more after Phil gave his consent to try, but both agreed—or rather, Phil _insisted_ and Tony complied—that it wouldn’t be wise to aggravate Tony’s potentially territorial mates. Instead, Tony was working on his tablet and Phil on his files, but they were pressed against each other enough for the others to get the vaguest idea of what they’d talked about.

 

“Tony?” Steve called as soon as he caught sight of them. The CEO looked up, though the rest of him held perfectly still.

 

“Hi, Cap. How was training?” he asked easily. Steve’s gaze was caught on their point of contact when he answered.

 

“You weren’t there for yours,” he said. “And Ms. Margoulis said you told her you weren’t planning on going back tomorrow.” Tony frowned slightly.

 

“Are you going to tell me to go back?” he asked almost petulantly. His tone made Steve raise his eyes to his face.

 

“You _know_ I won’t if you really don’t want to,” he said firmly and sincerely. “But can I at least ask why?” Tony bit his lip as he thought about what to say. He wanted to tell them how much he craved each of their touches, each whispered word they graced him with. He wanted them to know how far he’d go just to have them hold him. He wanted them to realize just how badly he wanted to be theirs permanently.

 

It would be so _easy_ to fall to his knees and tell them the truth: that he was madly, desperately in love with them and that he’d do anything to get them to fall just as madly for him—it was _right there_ on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Can I get a rain check on that?” he asked instead and slid his eyes away from Steve’s face to avoid seeing the flicker of disappointment there. His gaze found Clint’s instead… and in it was such blatant _longing_ that Tony’s heart broke just from looking at him. He extended his arm and held a hand out to the archer, silently begging him to take it. Clint didn’t move for a long time, but Bruce eventually nudged him gently, so he stepped forward and took Tony’s hand. The older man tugged him closer and tilted his head up to ask for a kiss which Clint granted easily. He pressed their mouths together so naturally and crowded Tony into the back of the couch, giving and taking exactly what they both wanted out of it.

 

It was lost on no one that he was a scant few inches away from Phil.

 

Tony pulled back gently and shifted Clint to his neck, and the archer kissed and sucked and nipped at the proffered flesh, trying—and failing miserably—to seem oblivious to the proximity of his other lover. Tony cupped the back of his head and pressed his lips to the shell of Clint’s ear.

 

“Don’t choose,” he whispered, and the blonde stiffened in his arms.

 

“What?” he asked against Tony’s neck. Tony shifted the hand that still held Clint’s to grasp the one of Phil’s that lay closest to them and entwined all of their fingers together. The sound that escaped Clint was unrecognizable, but he pressed his face into Tony’s neck before any other could escape him. His grip tightened around both Tony’s and Phil’s, not leaving even the smallest amount of space for them to escape.

 

A silence and stillness pervaded the atmosphere except for the slight tremors of Clint’s body, and then, hesitantly, Tony lifted his eyes to the rest of them.

 

Steve was watching Clint carefully, but thoughtfully, his eyes resting on their linked hands. Natasha looked marginally pleased with the current development if the slight quirk to her lips was any indication. Thor had a wide smile on his face and looked to be on the verge of saying something, and Bruce’s own smile was fond as he shook his head in a classic “Oh, Tony” gesture. Tony returned his gaze to Steve’s because only he failed to have even a hint of a smile on it, but he said nothing and simply waited while, in the meantime, Clint had calmed enough to turn his head to his team leader. His eyes were dry and his face composed, giving no indication of any kind of his small breakdown.

 

And then Steve lifted his eyes into Tony’s inquiring, pleading brown ones.

 

“Ask,” he said simply, and a smile spread slowly over Tony’s face, one which morphed from ecstatic to seductive in oh-point-eight seconds. He wriggled his hand out of Clint and Phil’s grasp and neatly slid onto his knees on the carpeted floor. He relished the way their gazes tracked his movement as he crawled from the couch to Steve’s feet and couldn’t help but press his mouth to Steve’s thigh before he tilted his head back, far enough for him to be able to look straight in his eyes.

 

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, breathy and seductive and perfect.

 

“’Please’ what, sweetheart?” And Tony shivered at the endearment.

 

“Please, sir, I want Phil,” he answered. Steve hummed.

 

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he said. Tony curled his hands around the backs of Steve’s thighs, and he pressed another kiss to the blue leather of the uniform, nuzzling the growing bulge in the vee of Steve’s legs before tilting his head back again. Steve caught the back of head in his hand and tangled his fingers in his hair.

 

“Please, sir, I want to kneel for Phil and beg for him. And I want to bend over for him and let him fuck me. I want to kiss him and fall asleep with him. I want to watch him with Clint and with Nat and with you and Thor and Bruce. I want him to be ours and I want us to be his, Master, please,” he said. Steve hummed again.

 

“I don’t know…” he said with a thoughtful, if exaggerated tilt of his head. Tony knew he was teasing, so he pouted terribly. “What do you guys think?” Steve turned to the rest of them.

 

“I think,” Natasha said with all due seriousness. “That words are not enough. Maybe he should show us just how much he wants it.” Tony’s smile was much too grateful and enthusiastic as he licked his lips exaggeratedly.

 

“Nothing would please me more than doing so, Mistress,” he answered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much later than promised XS But hey, OT7 porn, so I hope you forgive me.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so sorry in advance ^^

Tony woke up to a slight tingling in his arms from having slept on them for a good several hours. He didn’t remember having fallen asleep in the first place, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so right where he sat in the workshop. Staying up for a day and a half tended to do that to most people.

 

It had been his first solid binge of working in his lab without the others hovering over him—coddling him, really—and while he was infinitely grateful that they were willing to do that for him at all, being in his lab, spending hours upon hours of tinkering and inventing and building gave him a sense of normalcy, a sense of _rightness_ , as if everything was back to the way it should be, poisonous green smoothies and snarky AIs and all.

 

He sat up, stretched, and rubbed at the tingling feeling in his arms before picking up the arrowhead he had been working on before he had fallen asleep and asked JARVIS to pull up the schematics for an improvement on Phil’s firearms.

 

“JARV, turn down the temp a bit, will you? It’s getting a little hot in here,” he said a moment later through a mouthful of tools. He dropped the arrowhead and soldering iron quickly to shake off the still-present tingling in his arms before picking them back up and continuing his work.

 

Half an hour later, he dropped his tools once more and pulled up the arrow’s schematics. He was still having trouble with the detonation capabilities. If he could just get the blast capsule to synchronize with the remote sensor, he could finally move on to testing the damn thing, and then... and then...

 

“ _Jesus_ , JARVIS. I said to turn down the thermostat. It’s like the fucking Sahara in here!” he snapped, rubbing a hand over his chest where the tingling had spread from his arms, and—

 

That... that wasn’t normal.

 

He lifted his hands and rubbed the pads of his fingers together, wondering why the tingling was still there and why it was progressively getting worse. The tips of his fingers were buzzing lightly, not incapacitating him in any way, just that he became more aware of them, and the buzzing was slowly moving downward. He could feel it spreading over his chest, his back, down his stomach and up his neck. The feeling in his hands and arms morphed from a soft buzzing into a steady, familiar simmer.

 

Tony froze in place as his mind ran over the implications.

 

It was so much different from Connors’ injection but far too much the same anyway—that one made his blood boil and his erection rage almost as soon as the plunger had been pressed. It made him crazed and stupid with lust, and it was so damn _painful_. But this one, this was slow and steady and made him feel warm all over and... yes, there was a steady murmur of heat pooling around his groin. But even through it, he could think, he could reason. It was easy. It was pleasurable.

 

It was terrifying.

 

He choked a sound of distress and dropped his tools before pressing both hands against his face.

 

“Is something the matter, sir?” JARVIS asked. His voice was hurried, but unruffled, and Tony ignored him. His skin was simmering steadily now, almost exactly like it had back then.

 

Then the stench of Alpha 5-15’s arousal came to the forefront of his mind, and he jerked sharply off of his stool and retched onto the floor beside it.

 

“Sir!” JARVIS shouted. Tony continued to ignore him, stumbling his way to the garage and grabbing the keys of his Audi before gunning the engine despite JARVIS’s shouts of concern, and then he was out of the house.

 

The top was down and the wind blowing in his face, and for a moment, he could smell nothing but the gritty New York air. But then Alpha 5-15’s stench came back with a vengeance when traffic caught up with him, and Beta 3-20 and Sigma 7-04’s weren’t far behind that he had to pull over in a small street and blow chunks onto the asphalt outside his car door. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and slumped back against the seat, breathing deeply for a few moments and then he was driving again, only half aware of where he was going, while panic starting slowly clawing its way back up his throat.

 

Phil.

 

Phil was the logical choice. Phil was neutral. Phil was competent. Phil was _Phil_.

 

He jumped out of the still-running car upon arriving at SHIELD HQ, but he didn’t even have to run through the doors to find the man he was looking for, and when his eyes found Phil, his panic settled into mere desperation. The agent stood in front of the building’s main entrance, calm, unruffled, with his cellphone up against his ear.

 

“...here, Steve,” Tony could hear him say into the phone’s receiver. “I’ll take care of him. We’ll be home soon.” He wasn’t even able to tell Steve he was hanging up before Tony crashed against him, the full length of his jeans-and-tank-clad body pressed up against the older man’s. He was caked in sweat and oil and grime and probably needed a shower, but Phil didn’t seem to mind that he was messing up his neatly pressed suit.

 

He pressed his nose against Phil’s neck and inhaled a deep breath. He had none of the stench of the other test subjects and none of the cloying pheromones his pack had had when he had last been in heat; instead, he smelled of newly washed laundry, military-grade soap, woody aftershave and Clint’s ridiculous shampoo. It was a breath of fresh air between the simmering of his skin and the weight of his erection, and it helped clear his mind enough for him to hear JARVIS speak to Phil over the phone.

 

“ _Forgive my intrusion, Agent Coulson, but Agents Barton and Romanov have been alerted to Tony’s presence in the building. They are heading to your location, but given Sir’s current state, I think it would be prudent for you to relocate before they reach you_ ,” he said. Phil shifted Tony to his side and turned his head to anticipate the two spies.

 

“ _JARVIS, patch me through to their comms_ ,” Steve instructed. “ _Phil, bring Tony to your office. I’ll tell Clint and Nat to meet you there_.”

 

“Will do, Cap,” he answered and slipped his phone into his pocket. His arm wrapped around Tony’s waist was a comforting weight as the genius was gently guided through the throng of agents milling about. Most of them seemed disinterested enough in Tony’s apparent and sudden affinity for glomping Phil like a particularly enthusiastic octopus, but they were a legion of spies, so it was only natural that they were able to feign such disinterest. It was only from the prickling feeling that one got from being watched that Tony knew they weren’t half as disinterested as they appeared to be, and it was only under such scrutiny that he was able to keep from rutting up against Phil’s side.

 

Nevertheless, Phil still had to half drag him through the lobby and into the elevator as Tony refused to pull away from his neck. Phil’s clean scent was a reprieve from the memories of Alpha 5-15, Beta 3-20 and Sigma 7-04’s, and so Tony wasn’t willing to give it up easily without equal exchange.

 

The doors whispered shut behind them, and Tony used what strength he had to take advantage of Phil’s unfocused calm and shove him up against the back wall of the elevator car. He pressed their mouths together, stifling the beginnings of protest from the agent, and shoved his tongue into the parted lips to encourage response. He felt vaguely embarrassed of how his mouth probably tasted, but his need overtook his common etiquette, so he kissed Phil in wanton abandonment anyway.

 

Phil stumbled over his reaction which gave Tony enough leeway to press his hips against him and grind their clothed erections together. That, at least, managed to get a moan out of Phil before he grasped Tony’s arms and pushed him back, enough to pull their lips away, but not enough to make Tony feel rejected.

 

“Tony,” he said in a low and warning tone. Someone cleared their throat from behind him, and Tony froze. A slow blush was creeping up Phil’s neck, and he attempted to cover the reaction by adjusting his necktie. “Good afternoon, Director,” Phil said, and Tony turned slowly. True enough, Nick stood by the elevator panel, his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow lifted. Tony wasn’t subtle in his attempt to sidle behind Phil, but it was fine because Phil shifted to help him along. It _so_ didn’t help that his entire front was pressed up against Phil’s back.

 

The Director didn’t seem to notice, though, because he and Phil were staring at each other rather intensely. There were a lot of minute facial expressions flitting over their faces, not unlike the silent communication Clint and Natasha seemed to share, so the rest of the ride up to the twelfth floor was spent much the same way. The silence was cloying and intense, and Tony couldn’t help but discreetly press himself closer to Phil as the seconds ticked by. His nose was pressed against the agent’s back so that he inhaled Phil’s scent which helped settle him slightly.

 

When the elevator dinged, the only words that were spoken were “I’ll see you later, sir,” and then they were hurrying down the hallway to Phil’s office.

 

Clint and Natasha tackled them to the ground the second they walked in, landing all four of them in a tangled pile of arms and legs where the pair of assassins were working on ravishing him and Phil was trying to wriggle his way out from underneath the three of them. Tony didn’t realize that he had managed to do so because Clint flipped him onto his back and Natasha pinned his wrists to the floor above his head, and they smelled _so_. _Good_.

 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he chanted easily, rocking his hips up against Clint’s until the archer stilled them by pinning them to the floor. He bent over and licked a wide stripe up the length of Tony’s neck, drawing a choked moan out of the older man.

 

“That’s enough, Clint,” Phil commanded. The archer stilled immediately, practically frozen in place above Tony, and the genius whined. Natasha shot Phil a look, but when he motioned for her to release Tony, she went without further word, allowing the agent to pull Tony into his arms. He tilted Tony’s chin up, keeping a firm grip on it. “What’s wrong, Tony?” he asked. Tony whined again and tried to pull his face away. On failing to do so, he averted his eyes and said nothing. Phil shook his chin a bit. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice brooked no room for argument.

 

“We know what he wants, Phil,” Natasha spoke. Her tone held a note of tension, as though she was three seconds away from snapping at him. Phil only levelled her a baleful glare.

 

“I’m sure you do, Natasha. That much is clear. But I’m asking him what’s _wrong_ because it’s not like him to come barrelling into SHIELD just to look for sex when he has three perfectly good partners at home, one of which is our alpha.” Natasha failed to look chastised, but she no longer looked as if she was going to make heads roll. Satisfied, Phil turned to Tony. “So tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“I _remembered_ ,” Tony answered through gritted teeth. “I remembered them touching me and taking me, and I remembered the way they _smell_. And I don’t want to remember.”

 

“Is it because of this?” Phil asked, brushing his hand once more over Tony’s groin before giving him a more substantial grip. “What are you feeling?” Tony buried his face in Phil’s neck again and whimpered, rocking up into his hand.

 

“Yes. Yes, that,” he hissed and then said through gritted teeth, “I woke up and my arms were tingly, but it didn’t stop, and I remembered Connors, and I remembered them. And fuck, Phil, I need... I need...” His hiccup was muffled by Phil’s skin, but Phil knew what he needed. Phil always knew what to do, so when Tony rocked once more into his palm, he pressed back, stroking him through his pants.

 

Then Clint and Natasha were at either side of his neck, sucking at it and murmuring at him while they helped Phil pulled open Tony’s jeans, and then his cock was in Phil’s hand and Natasha teasing his nipples and Clint caressing his ass, and Tony was growling in want into his skin.

 

“Good. Good. Just like that,” Phil praised as Tony thrust into his hand, once, twice, thrice. “Forget about them, Tony. We’re here now, we’ll take care of you,” he said, twisting his wrist and stroking the head of Tony’s cock, and the other man could no longer hold on, didn’t want to hold on, not with the heat in his skin and Clint and Nat’s pheromones swirling around him. Phil’s hand wasn’t going to be enough, not yet, but he came into it anyway, moaning and whimpering, and when he was done, he held still in their arms while the other man pressed kisses to his hair. “Hold on,” the agent told Clint and Natasha. “I know you can hold on till we get to the car at least, won’t you?”

 

“You’re killing me, Phil,” Clint whined, but Tony knew he wasn’t going to disobey.

 

“Of course,” Natasha answered briskly, her voice tense with denied want. Phil nodded and sat back on his heels to be able to pull his phone out of his pocket, and Tony spied droplets of his come splattered on Phil’s tie. That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, he thought, to mess up your lover’s nice work clothes, so he grabbed a clean edge of the tie and lifted the cloth to his mouth, licking the droplets off. Natasha swore loudly, defaulting to Russian as she tended to do when overly emotional (for her anyway), and Clint made a broken sound in the back of his throat. Both of them vibrated from the tension of having to hold back, but though Phil wasn’t blind to Tony’s actions, he was more focused on the phone call.

 

“We’re headed home,” he was saying while the two spies had resumed their molesting of Tony who was _so very okay with it_. He leaned back against Natasha’s shoulder while Clint pawed at his jeans, attempting to drag it down to his knees. “Stop it,” Phil warned him though and then turned back to the call. “ETA: fifteen minutes.” He stood and righted his clothes and motioned for the two to do the same then pulled Tony up to his feet, tucked him back into his jeans and pressed a small kiss to his mouth. “Come on. Car,” he told all three of them.

 

It was a struggle to manoeuvre them through the building and into the parking lot when the three of them were itching to jump each other right where they stood. Phil purposely insinuated himself between Tony and the two and called on every ounce of command he held over them. It was a win that they managed to get themselves into the backseat of Phil’s sedan—Clint on the far left, Tony in his lap and Natasha pressed right up against the both of them—before ripping the jeans off of Tony, quite literally because there was the sound of fabric being sliced open by a sharp blade, a whisper of cold metal against his thigh and a louder ripping of denim reverberating through the vehicle before the chill of a draft over his lower half sent chills over his skin.

 

Two fingers were in him immediately, and he groaned loudly, riding them even as they didn’t fail to press into him. The car started moving as soon as Tony did, but Natasha was working his slick, sodden hole open for Clint whose now-exposed cock was brushing up against his own.

 

“Please,” he begged, “Please.”

 

“Go on, _lyubov moya_ ,” Natasha whispered. “Take what you need.” And Tony sank down, down, down onto Clint’s cock, both of them moaning at the action. Natasha whispered words of praise, of encouragement, lewd words in English and in Russian that Tony whimpered for. He yelped when the car’s motions coincided with Clint’s thrusts and gasped when he ground his ass into Clint’s pelvis.

 

“Christ, Tony,” Clint cursed. “Go on. Fucking _take it_.” He grunted as he fucked up into the brunet once, wrenching a sharp cry from him, then Natasha pulled Clint’s hair to get his attention.

 

“Don’t come,” she warned him. “We’re nearly home.” Clint gritted his teeth and nodded, and when Tony pushed himself once more, and he felt himself teetering over the edge, he shoved the omega off of him and into Natasha’s lap.

 

Tony _wailed_ and clawed at the blond for his attention, but Natasha pulled him to her, kissing him and cooing at him, fingering his hole and delighted to find it loose enough for three, easy.

 

“It aches you to be empty, doesn’t it?” she murmured, not really a question. “You moan so prettily when you’re stuffed, with fingers, with cock.” Her words were a wave of pleasure that rolled over Tony. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder as he rode her fingers once more. “Look at how your body wants more; three fingers aren’t enough, are they? You want more—one cock, maybe two. A knot.” She punctuated that by adding a fourth finger into Tony’s ass and wrenching a cry from him. “Maybe we should keep you plugged up all day, every day, make you satisfied and aching with need at the same time, make you loose and easy any time someone wants to fill you up.”

 

“Yes. _Yes_ , please, mistress,” Tony moaned. She laughed in delight. It was a beautiful, musical sound.

 

“I know, Tony. Oh, I know,” she said, kissing him. “I know how much you like that thought: that we could strip you and bend you over and fuck into you with only the barest of thoughts. Your ass gets so beautifully wet, and when the time comes, you won’t need any prep at all. You’re going to be so loose that anyone, even Thor or Steve, or fuck, maybe even Hulk can fuck you whenever they want. Wouldn’t you want that?”

 

“Oh, god, Nat. Fuck,” Clint hissed, palming at his cock. Phil said nothing, but his hands clutched the wheel tighter. Tony, though, Tony only keened as he rutted against Natasha’s pelvis. The thought short circuited his brain. They didn’t know how Hulk would react to all these changes and to their pack—Bruce hadn’t transformed once since they’d been captured—but the thought of being taken by someone his _size_ , well, let it never be said that Tony wasn’t a size queen.

 

“You love that.” Natasha looked amused, but that was all she said because they had entered the garage, and Phil had pulled up into a stop. The door beside her was ripped nearly off his hinges and hands grabbed Tony and pulled him off of her lap. He had barely a second to recover, not even enough for panic to settle in, before a familiar set of lips were pressed against his.

 

He grunted against Steve’s mouth when the other thought to slam him against the wall, but that grunt quickly transformed into a moan when Steve, without preamble, sunk himself into Tony’s loose, slick heat. His legs wrapped themselves high up Steve’s waist as the blonde impaled him, repeatedly, frantically, pounding him into the cold cement behind him. His thrusts were relentless and unforgiving, and Tony only wanted them to never end.

 

He tipped his head back against the wall, baring his neck for Steve who clamped his teeth around the tender flesh there. It was a spark of pain that grounded him, that made him all the more aware of the cool pleasure that was seeping through his bones and settling the gentle simmer of his skin. Tears filled his shut eyes and squeezed their way out of the corners, but Tony barely noticed them in light of the intense pleasure. Steve lifted his head and pressed his lips to Tony’s ear.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he murmured, oddly gentle in spite of the harsh thrusts of his hips. Only then did Tony realize he had been mumbling _knot me, knot me, knot me_ repeatedly. Steve’s breathing was growing erratic and his thrusts staggered, and he shifted his hands from Tony’s ass to his waist to be able to drag him down when he fucked up. Tony cried out at each stroke, grasping Steve’s shoulders for stability. Steve slammed into him one last time and bit down again on Tony’s neck, then he was coming with a loud groan, his knot swelling and locking inside Tony.

 

It was at that feeling, of the hard knot pressing at the walls of his ass, barely inside his hole, that Tony, too, was coming. He couldn’t help the wail that escaped him as he coated the front of their clothes with his come, and Steve only bit down on his neck harder until he shuddered at the last of his orgasm.

 

When he came down from his high, he blinked and blearily peered over Steve’s shoulder to find the rest of the pack in varying states of undress and varying configurations, all of them watching him hungrily.

 

“I think,” Phil said from where he was sandwiched between Thor and Clint, “that it would be best for us to relocate upstairs.”

 

………………

 

It took a nearly half an hour for Steve’s knot to subside because Tony kept wriggling in his lap while they watched their pack writhe against each other on the bed. Having Steve in him felt so damn good—he felt satisfied and whole—but being shown a buffet of skin and mouths and breasts and cocks, but not being allowing to touch, to taste was borderline torture.

 

He tried jacking off to the scene before him, but Steve only slapped his hand away and told him, “How are they going to have their turn if you’re all done now?” Tony made noises of unintelligible protest at that, but he was of the opinion that Steve liked hearing them, so eventually, he just sat still and sat quiet until he felt Steve’s cock slipping out of his hole. When it did, he turned in his lap and pressed a sloppy, wet, pleading kiss to his lips.

 

“Now, please?” he asked, batting his eyelashes playfully. Steve quirked a grin and kissed his forehead.

 

“Yes, now,” he answered. Tony grinned brightly, kissed him again and jumped on the bed only to be enfolded into the mix. His ass hadn’t been empty for a minute when he felt another cock sliding into him—not that he was complaining at all—but this cock felt... different—harder maybe, less forgiving and without the slight ridge that signified the beginnings of a knot. He tilted his head away from Bruce’s kiss to peer over his shoulder and see Natasha smiling at him.

 

And then she was sliding her strap on in and out of him with a finesse that seemed almost natural, slowly at first to allow him to get used to the rigidity of the dildo, but then steadily gaining speed and strength. She pounded into him with steady, consistent strokes that made him gasp into Bruce’s mouth, and she knew how to angle herself so that she hit his prostate dead on almost every time.

 

The thing about strap-ons, though, was that the wearer could feel no sensation, so despite her inherent grace and finesse and her natural capacity to easily adapt to any situation, when Natasha thrust in, it was sometimes a shade too deep or a bit too hard, and Tony would cry out in half pleasure and pain.

 

It was only too perfect when that happened because the pain, it pulled him back from his lust-driven high. When their pheromones fogged his mind and clouded his senses, those sharp pinpricks were like beacons of light that allowed him to focus on pleasure beyond his own.

 

Bruce was still occupying his mouth, but he reached his hand out to beckon Thor closer, and the god allowed him to grasp his cock and jack him off. Then Thor cut between their kiss and murmured at the doctor, “Leave his mouth be, doctor. I want yours.” They shared a kiss above the omega who instead filled his mouth with Bruce’s cock.

 

The doctor gasped and inadvertently thrust in before he remembered to pull back to not choke Tony which was frankly rather disappointing because Tony wouldn’t have minded choking on his cock. He pushed forward anyway, trying to encourage the slightly younger man to discard his inhibition to do so. Just behind Bruce, Clint chuckled through a gasp, and Tony lifted his eyes enough to appreciate the view of Clint on his knees being impaled by Phil’s cock. His hands clutched Phil’s hair where the agent knelt behind him, and his body was stretched taut and bare to Tony’s greedy eyes.

 

“Look...” He paused for a gasp after a particularly jarring thrust, but soldiered on. “Look at him, Bruce, trying to cram every inch of you into his mouth.” Clint’s head lolled back onto Phil’s shoulders as he moaned and then spoke again. “God, he wants it so bad, don’t you, Stark? Want to choke on Bruce’s cock? Want him to knot your mouth and pump you with come? Greedy little cockslut.” Moans all around greeted Clint’s words, but any further ones were muffled by Phil’s mouth.

 

“Filthy boy,” Natasha hissed at the archer while Tony verified Clint’s words by sucking Bruce more enthusiastically. She seemed pleased when she said it, though.

 

“Go on then,” Steve said from where he was draped insouciantly over the armchair Tony left him in, looking all for the world like a sultan watching his harem. The image was as odd as it was hot, and Tony tried not to come. It was a very, very difficult endeavour. “Fuck his mouth, Bruce. Make him choke on you.” And Tony had to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on Natasha’s thrusts to keep from coming.

 

Bruce didn’t disobey. His wove his fingers in Tony’s hair and used that as an anchor when he shoved his cock in deep, and Tony gagged around him. It didn’t deter the scientist, and he repeated the motion, once, twice, thrice to the same conclusion. Involuntary tears welled up in the corner of Tony’s eyes, and Bruce traced them down his cheeks before they even fell, and then he pushed in again until Tony’s nose was pressed against the curls at the base of his cock and held him there.

 

Tony’s throat spasmed in response, and his cheeks cooled with wetness. He couldn’t breathe, and his jaw ached faintly from its wide stretch, but he could feel the bulge of Bruce’s knot in the middle of his tongue. Its weight pressed his tongue down and filled his mouth up, and he couldn’t help but think about how the Hulk’s would feel. The thought made him moan just a little bit louder, and Bruce cursed and pulled out then thrust back in repeatedly and inelegantly before Tony could complain.

 

Behind him, he felt Natasha pull out and another—Thor most likely because he had disappeared from Bruce’s side—take her place, but he couldn’t be bothered to voice any small protest because Bruce was fucking his throat with reckless abandon that Tony was sure he was going to be terribly apologetic for later on, but that Tony loved— _loved_. He clutched at the backs of Bruce’s pistoning thighs and dragged him closer when he pulled back. He whimpered and sobbed and moaned and sucked, and he was finally rewarded with a deep thrust and bitter, sluggish fluid filling his mouth.

 

His eyes slid shut as his focus moved from Bruce to Thor, relishing the feel of both ends filled. Now that he’d given Bruce his fill, he could enjoy the pleasant burn of Thor’s size as the blond pushed and pulled into him. A half-formed knot was starting to catch at the rim of Tony’s hole, and he clenched around it to encourage it to pop. It wasn’t enough just yet, but it did spur the god on to fuck him harder and faster, exactly the way he wanted it—and the way Thor did too because his fingers were digging dents into Tony’s hipbones as they squeezed tighter and tighter. And then Thor was coming with a roar, his knot popping and crowding into Tony’s prostate, and the CEO was coming and coming and coming onto the bedspread beneath him.

 

He rode out his orgasm, whining all the while, until he could feel Bruce stroking his hair gently. He tilted his eyes up, looking at Bruce through his eyelashes in what was equally feigned innocence and encouraging seduction. Bruce only chuckled and traced his lips that were still stretched around his knotted cock. His jaw ached painfully, but he wasn’t about to relinquish his prize just yet. Instead, he basked in the attention and warm afterglow his pack afforded him.

 

It didn’t take long, this time, for Bruce and Thor’s knots to subside, so it was only a few minutes when they both pulled away from him and allowed the other access. He sought Phil out first, nuzzling into him while Clint mouthed at the back of his neck.

 

“You were perfect, sweetheart. So good,” Phil told him, and Tony didn’t bother denying the presence of butterflies in his stomach that matched the calmed simmering of his skin.

 

“Mmm... Not done yet,” Tony murmured almost sleepily, earning a chuckle from the agent. His cock was already half-hard again, but that wasn’t uncommon during his past heats.

 

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” he said. “Food first though? And maybe a nap, and then you can choose whomever you want next.”

 

“You choose,” Tony answered.

 

“Well...” Phil paused to think about it. “Clint’s been such a good boy since SHIELD. I think he deserves a go next. What do you think, Steve?” The captain was still watching them with the regard of a sultan, and a thrill fluttered through Tony at it.

 

“Yeah, okay. Clint can have his turn,” he said as he stood and neared the bed. They all watched as Steve towered over them then dipped his head to kiss Phil rather thoroughly. Goosebumps rose across the flesh beneath Tony’s fingertips, and he hid a smile in the crook of Phil’s neck lest the older man be embarrassed by it. He could only imagine how Phil felt right now—being kissed by the man he’d idolized his entire life—but he wasn’t going to hold it over him. When Phil and Steve pulled apart a bright flush spread over the agent’s face, and Steve smiled fondly at it. “And I’ll have you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!A lot of bullshit science ahead. While I tried to make it as realistic as possible (I googled stuff), there’s still a whole lot of it that justifies the term “fanfiction.” It mostly deals with explaining what Hydra did and how the mpreg is possible because even if I don’t think it might interest readers too much, I have this thing about trying to justify stuff properly in my head rather than just claiming “artistic license.”
> 
> Also, I have this thing about woobie!Tony, but in the grand scheme of things, I didn’t want him going too OOC, so this chappie deals with acceptance of the shit things that have happened to him/them and moving on and the return of snarky!Stark.
> 
> 6000+ words of NOT porn. What is wrong with me?
> 
> (For some reason MS Word likes taking out random spaces between words, so if you encounter any fused words, please ignore them X|)

When Hydra still had him and he had little else, his heats were a constant clusterfuck of suffocating pheromones, overwhelming pain and pleasure, and mindless litanies of _pleasenowyes_ and, often,  _stop_. He’d spent its entirety pressed against his pack’s naked bodies (or, more commonly, strapped to the bench, but he was trying not to think about that), writhing against them with wanton abandon and giving and taking with hardly any thought to anything else. And Tony had needed that then because the burning of his blood threatened to boil him from the inside out unless that need was satiated, repeatedly and often.

 

That thought kept at the forefront of his mind for the next three days, which was why he had spent them in a state of confusion between physical, aching need and the mere expectation of such.

 

If he were to be well and truly honest, in the past two weeks, the memories of his capture hadn’t bothered him as much as he thinks they should have, not like Afghanistan had done to him then when he’d spent hours glaring at his arc reactor, wondering if he should just yank it out and rid himself of all his troubles at the conclusion of a few painful moments.This time around, he thought less about how best to off himself and more about how to please his lovers. He figured the difference between the two lie in the bonds that were formed out of said captures. In Afghanistan, he befriended only the man who saved his life and who would only later die before his very eyes. In Kyrgyzstan, he’d found five people who wanted him in all the best ways and who he knew would gladly take a bullet for him, but were skilled or strong enough that that wasn’t much of an option.

 

It didn’t excuse the memories or make them any less distressing when he did happen to think on them, not by a long shot, but the point was, whatever the reason, he had forgotten about the heat until it had actually started and he couldn’t anymore think past _pleasenowyes_.

 

Now that he was stuck in the middle of it, he remembered each and every one of them in explicit and excruciating detail. And while his pack were there to help him out of his mind when he got stuck on the particularly unpleasant parts, he’d spent a lot more time than he’d anticipated thinking about why he was able to think at all. In the facility, he couldn’t think further past the nearest cock, not even enough to recognize that he only wanted them and they only wanted him because of the drugs running through their veins, which was a pretty damn dangerous reason for engaging in sexual relations. Here, not only could he only choose to not think about the nearest cock, he could also, while he was caught in a rather compromising position,think about and understand Bruce’s discussions about why they could do so.

 

“Can I at least put on my pants now?” he asked, trying for humor to cover not the discomfort of his position—face down on one of Bruce’s examination tables, pants off and legs spread while Bruce took samples of his slick (and secretly felt him up, but Tony wasn’t going to tell) while everybody else watched (and patiently waited their turn)—because he hardly felt any discomfort around them anymore, but the discomfort of the memories that were idling about at the back of his mind.

 

Bruce only hummed while he alternately looked through his microscope and tapped on a nearby laptop, so Tony took that to mean a ‘yes’ and hopped of the table to grabhis clothing off of a different one.Then having covered himself up, he made his way to Thor and curled up in his lap while waiting for Bruce’s verdict.The doctor was at the microscope again while his unoccupied hand tapped an impatient tattoo on the desk with a pencil.

 

“Well, doc?” Clint asked when the tapping stretched on for longer than any of them could stand. Bruce paused for a moment then pushed away from the microscope with a heavy sigh.

 

“It shouldn’t be as simple as it is,” he said with a grimace, cleaning his glasses with his lab coat and slipping them back on.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was Phil who asked this time. He stood at Steve’s shoulder, one arm wrapped around a thick file folder that Tony knew was about him. Bruce breathed in deeply, let it out, paused and only then spoke.

 

“Everything Tony’s experiencing—and us by extension—all the signs and symptoms of the... the _heat_.” He seemed hesitant to use the word, but there was really no other word for it. “...It’s all completely normal.” That drew frowns of concern and confusion and voiced protests because _it wasn’t_ normal _for humans to experience heats, Bruce, or to leak lubricant from their ass, what the hell_? Bruce gestured at them to settle down while he explained further. “I know how it sounds, but all the surgery and the serum did their jobs exactly as they were intended to. Tony was made to become a child bearer of human-canine hybrids, and that’s exactly what’s happened.Right now, he’s exhibiting normal, natural reproductive characteristics of a female of the canine species.”

 

“Is this your way of calling me a bitch, Bruce? Because I’m not feeling the love,” Tony pouted horribly and comically while his insides throbbed and writhed with mixed emotions that fell mostly on the negative end of the spectrum. Bruce ignored him, and Thor shushed him with a well-applied kiss to the nape of his neck.

 

“I still have to finalize my findings before I can give a full report to Fury, but I think I’m sure enough to tell you this.” He rolled his chair back over to his laptop and tapped on it. “JARVIS, can you project this for me please?” he said without looking from the screen, and only when his monitor was projected onto a blank wall did he do so. There was a crude diagram of a male body which Tony assumed was supposed to represent him. Everything on it was blanked out but for the organs at the groin area.

 

“Here’s how a male body is supposed to be: testes, penis, prostate, bladder, the whole kit and caboodle.” And then a second diagram appeared beside the first, this time with obvious extra organs. “ _This_ is how Tony’s looks right now. Everything is still there, except there are things that shouldn’t be.” Both diagrams of the human body faded out, save for the extra organs of the second male form. Then another diagram, almost identical to the isolated organs, appeared in the space that had just been vacated. “This is what the reproductive system of a female wolf looks like. You have here the ovaries, the oviduct, the uterine horn, the uterus, etc. As you can see, it’s almost nearly identical to the ones in Tony, except he’s missing a vagina—”

 

“Dodged a bullet there,” came Tony’s dry remark which Natasha quelled with a glare.

 

“But that isn’t really necessary if a person were to deliver by C-section.” ‘A person’ he said, but they all really heard ‘Tony.’ “The vagina is merely a passage designed for easier delivery. The cervix, on the other hand, which also provides for the lubrication, was made to connect the rectum. This is where the lubrication was made to exit and the semen to enter—a cruder but admittedly easier version of a pregnancy-compatible sex change.

 

“But implanting them alone wouldn’t be enough. The body would simply reject the organs, and they would wither and die and possibly cause irreparable damage... or, more likely, death.” Mentioning death (especially Tony’s) always seemed to raise hackles in the pack. Bruce continued nevertheless. “From Connors’ notes, they’ve had quite a few subjects who experienced this result; only one out of dozens of failed subjects survived after implantation because they managed to remove the organs before they decomposed entirely—”

 

“I’m sorry, but am I the only one wondering where they got all the implanted organs?” Clint asked. He wasn’t, but Tony hadn’t wanted to ask in fear of the answer he already suspected. His fear wasn’t unfounded, though, because Bruce flicked a glance at him then glared venomously at the archer. It was a strange expression on him, but one that was appropriate because Tony paled.

 

“Human or canine?” he managed to get out while struggling to keep the bile down. It helped that Thor’s arms tightened around his midsection in comfort, both physical and emotional, and Clint looked immensely guilty for having asked.

 

“They tried different kinds of both, but for various reasons, in male subjects, they were most successful with Eastern Timber Wolf. That’s what you have,” he seemed pained to say it and looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around Tony which Tony appreciated on some level, but right now he was trying to process the fact that fucking Hydra had put _animal parts_ in him. He resisted the urge to touch his stomach—an action that had become somewhat commonplace lately for various reasons—because he was afraid he’d give in to the urge to rip the foreign organs out with his bare hands.Instead, he reached out and tangled the fingers of one hand with Natasha’s and the other with Thor’s. Their tight grip was a massive source of comfort, so Tony managed to nod for Bruce to continue. Bruce hesitated quite a bit, but he eventually nodded back.

 

“To force the body to accept the implanted organs, they created the serum—the three IV drips. The bigger one contained a drug designed to confuse the pituitary gland, the organ that controls hormones, into accepting hormones that shouldn’t be compatible with the human body. The other two bags contained those hormones—female canine reproductive hormones, that is—that wouldand haveaccepted the organs as though they were a natural part of the body and made them active and functioning.

 

“Similarly, the rest of us were given a similar kind of treatment: the drug to confuse our pituitary gland and the hormones—this time the male canine reproductive hormones. There wasn’t any need, however, to implant new organs because we already had what we needed. The knotting was simply an unforeseen side effect.

 

“To begin the reproductive cycle, they would inject the fe—the uh... the bearer test subject with a starter drug which would compel the pituitary gland to produce what’s called the follicle stimulating hormone. This would help the egg cells mature which would stimulate ovulation. This would, in turn, trigger the release of progesterone which would arouse the symptoms of heat.

 

“The starter drug, however, isn’t necessary—it’s only an accelerant for the process. Tony’s body is fully capable of going through the reproductive cycle on its own which is why he’s experiencing it now. And I suspect, but this I still have to confirm, that the starter drug was why the other heats bore no fruit no matter how much they tried. Because the body underwent the process so rapidly, the foetus couldn’t develop.” There was silence while the information was processed. That explained _so much_ , but there were still so many questions in Tony’s mind that he didn’t know where to even begin.

 

“The egg cells… If I have…—from an actual wolf, wouldn’t the ova be canine? How would human sperm be compatible with that?” he started with.

 

“They aren’t actually canine. Hydra took ova from humans and genetically modified them to contain the traits they wanted which they then implanted in the bearers. With the FSH injected in the male subjects, the sperm of the males then become compatible.” Tony nodded then bit his lip.

 

“Why was the… breeding necessary?” he added after a beat. His voice was unusually, but not strangely quiet in an effort to conceal that “breeding” was a mere euphemism for a more monstrous term. “Surely IVF would be more successful in creating embryos that natural methods.”

 

“It is,” Phil cut in before Bruce had to answer. He didn’t, after all, have the answers to this. “But this was supposed to be a self-sustaining project. After the first successful conception, they were going to lay off the starter drug and allow all subjects to live together and breed the natural way. They needed to see that was possible first.”

 

“So… So you’re saying that—you’re telling me that I can actually get _pregnant_?” He laughed, but it was more hysterical than actually amused. Bruce and Phil exchanged a worried glance but said nothing which was as much of an answer as Tony needed anyway.

 

He’d been coping. Over the last two weeks since they got back, he’d been doing really well, or as well as can be expected, he thought. He’d gone on marathon inventing sprees like before (granted, not as long as before and not locked up in his workshop by himself like he usually did, but for all intents and purposes, the same as before), he engaged in kinky sexual relations like before (exclusively with six people, but still. Like before), he avoided most of Medical and ditched his shrink, he trained at SHIELD, he bantered and snarked and _laughed_ and annoyed people (Fury) and ate breakfast and was genuinely happy.

 

And then this conversation happened, and he felt like he was back at square one.

 

Sure, they had flirted with the idea, when Clint whispered dirty things that appealed to the part of his brain that had apparently gone mad and decided it _liked_ what Clint had been saying, when Steve told him, in the sweetest, most loving, hottest way imaginable, what he thought about it, when he’d found Bruce reading up on the subject. But that had all been imaginary at the time. This time, though, it was real and possible and—

 

—and _oh God_ , they hadn’t used _protection_.

 

His grip on Natasha and Thor’s hands tightened inadvertently as he struggled through the thought of _What if? What if?!_ He felt the bubbling hysteria of being worried over something he’d never thought any man would ever be worried about.

 

And then Steve’s hands were cupping his face, and he was murmuring words at him that Tony struggled to understand.

 

“Hey. Hey, now. Stop it, Tony,” he crooned. “Stop. It’s going to be fine. Tony… _Tony_ , look at me. Please, sweetheart?” It was the endearment that finally caught Tony’s attention, and he lifted his eyes up to Steve’s distressed blue ones. There was a small amount of relief in them, but a lot more of worry. “Hey,” he repeated. “It’s going to be fine, Tony. We’re all here for you; we’ll get through this together, okay?” And it was such a clichéd sentiment, but it was just so _Steve_ that Tony couldn’t help but believe him. He let go of Thor’s hand to clasp one of Steve’s.

 

“I don’t know what to do about this,” he said, shutting his eyes while Steve pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

“That’s okay. That’s okay, Tony. You aren’t supposed to know,” he said before kissing Tony gently on the mouth.

 

“It’s just… We’ve been hinting at the idea,” the genius started when Steve pulled back. “And that was fine and all—arousing even—but that was when we didn’t actually know if it was _possible_. Now that it is… I just…”

 

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen that you don’t want,” Steve answered, firm and true which Tony though was ridiculous because he knew _that_. He scoffed a bit when he told Steve which made the soldier grin a microscopic bit.

 

“But we weren’t… careful yesterday. And what if… if—” Tony broke off with a distressed groan. “ _Fuck_ , I’m starting to sound like a teenage girl. Fucking, fucking—” He let out a ragged, annoyed breath then stood suddenly up off of Thor’s lap to face all six of them. He tossed his head up and his shoulders back and clenched his fists, looking stronger and more confident than he’d ever been since they’d gotten back even if he didn’t actually feel the same way. “ _Fuck this_ ,” he said with all of the confidence he could pretend to possess. “I’m Anthony _Fucking_ Stark; I can fucking  _handle_ this.”

 

And he _could_. He really, really could because if he could endure the worst heart surgery in the history of medicine and still blast his kidnappers to bits, if he could invent and build things that other people couldn’t even _dream_ about and _still_ have time to run a multi-billion dollar company, if he could make a suit of armor that could rival the power of a god and use it to decimate an army of humanoid aliens, he could very well handle being pregnant and raising a kid.

 

Grins of varying degrees of pride (though all colored with an appropriate amount of concern) met his statement, and that only boosted his certainty because he knew, he _knew_ he wouldn’t be alone in this.

 

………………

 

They pinned down the date for the media conference for the weekend which, of course, meant that Fury had them called in for a Very Important Briefing on Friday evening, and, to Tony’s utter horror, Pepper was there too, standing beside Fury like an avenging angel to his maniacal demon.

 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he told her, and she only smiled back sweetly—too sweetly really which was why Tony knew that she was going to rip him a new one in her own unique way.

 

“I’m only on your side when you don’t try to burn the company to the ground in front of the media. Otherwise, I’ll rip your family jewels out and wear them around my neck to the next Stark Industries investor gala,” she answered. Tony tried not to make it obvious that he was squeezing his thighs tightly shut and sidling closer to Steve who would (maybe) be able to protect him from her. It was a poor attempt. “Metaphorically, of course,” she added as if it was true.

 

“Ouch,” Clint muttered, laughter in his voice, but he snagged Tony around the waist from behind Steve and perched him on his lap when they sat down. Tony, whose eyes hadn’t left Pepper’s, was pleased to note that, while she still looked a tad uncertain about his newfound relationship with his team, she looked happy enough for him.

 

After she and Rhodey been caught up with everything, they’d lamented with him and joined him in getting rip-roaring drunk (which his pack sent him varying amused and disapproving looks for, but they still tucked around him and kissed him a proper goodnight) and in their tequila-addled state confided in him that they were glad anyway that he’d found someone (or some _ones_ ) who would take care of him when they couldn’t.

 

“And on that delightful note,” Fury interrupted before anything further could be said (and the thing about it was, he _wasn’t actually sarcastic_ ; the bastard _did_ actually sound delighted). “Let’s move on to discussing what you should and should not do to _not_ ruin SHIELD’s image.” Phil passed around sheets of paper—fucking handouts—about the official statement from SHIELD. Tony scanned it briefly. In summary, the major points included were (in big bolded font and several exclamation points in certain parts):

 

  1. Length of captivity: acceptable
  2. Captors: acceptable
  3. Location of facility: “Middle East” acceptable; “Kyrgyzstan” or “Mongolia” confidential
  4. Goals of captor: confidential
  5. Results of captor: confidential
  6. Extraction procedure: acceptable, but nothing explicit
  7. Extractors: “SHIELD” acceptable; actual names, confidential
  8. Demise of Red Skull and disbanding of Hydra: acceptable
  9. Personal experiences: your own discretion



 

Then he laid it flat on the table in front of him and tented his fingers while leaning back against Clint’s chest.

 

“That is not a fucking suggestion list, Stark,” Fury warned. “ _Stick to it_ this time.” Tony hummed thoughtfully, partially to see the twitch in Fury’s eye, which was always amusing to see, but also because he wanted to make his own addition to the statement.

 

“I’ll take that under advisement. However, in light of recent events,” Tony started, meeting no one’s eyes but Pepper’s, but he felt their gazes on him anyway. She narrowed hers. “I’ve come to a recent decision.”

 

“Are we talking Cuba ’86 levels of idiocy here or Tokyo ’92?” she asked carefully. “Because I need to be prepared for the damage control I need to do.” Tony flashed her a winning grin.

 

“Maybe a little bit more of Amsterdam ’96,” he answered, just to see her gasp and pale.

 

“Oh God… _Tony_! You can’t do this to me! We talked about this, and you agreed never again!” she wailed, stamping her foot a little in a rare show of discomposure. She was going to kill him in a slow, horrible, painful manner, and Tony would probably deserve every second of it.

 

“Kidding!” he amended quickly with an unapologetic, self-satisfied grin, holding his hands up in self-defense. It didn’t shield him from her poisonous glare, but Natasha caught the pen Pepper threw at him before it even reached Bruce, who was sitting at his side. It was a sign that meant he was probably going to get out relatively unscathed. “See, I’m helping you expect the worst so that when I finally tell you that I’m resigning as CEO and appointing you as my successor, you’d be prepared for it.”

 

“You can’t _joke_ about Amsterdam ’96, Tony! I’m still having nightmares over—wait. What?” She stopped suddenly when she seemed to realize what he had just said and stared at him in stunned silence—the same kind of silence everyone else was caught in. His characteristic smirk faded into a gentle, genuine and slightly sad smile.

 

“I said—”

 

“No, I heard what you said, Tony. I understood that part. Just… why?” She seemed pained… broken over it when that shouldn’t have been the case at all. She was supposed to be _happy_ because, not to toot his own horn, heading SI was an _enormous_ privilege, and she had _earned_ it. Plus, it would mean that he wouldn’t be there to muck it up for her anymore.

 

“I’ll still be there, you know. Show you the ropes and all that. Plus, I’ll still be heading R&D because God knows we can’t find anyone more competent at that than me,” he said, purposely avoiding her question. She snorted and muttered “‘show me the ropes’ my ass” before saying louder:

 

“That’s an answer to a different question. Why are you resigning, Tony? You love SI, and I know I give you a lot of flak for it, but you’re not a _completely_ incompetent CEO—”

 

“I’m _touched_ , Pepper,” Tony scowled playfully and pointed at his arc reactor. “That touches me right here. I feel the love. I do. Really.”

 

“You’re still not answering my question,” she pointed out.

 

“Uhh… maybe because you’re a better CEO than I could ever be? Maybe because I think you deserve this position _at the very least_? Maybe because you’re already running the company the way a CEO should anyway and that I should just get out of your way while you take it to the top of the food chain? Take your pick, Pep. They’re all true,” he told her with a dramatic roll of his eyes. Her mouth opened and shut a number of times, but she _still_ didn’t look happy.

 

“Is this because of… of what happened?” she asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room which Tony was _hoping_ to avoid because everything he said was the absolute truth, but it was, nevertheless, only part of the truth.

 

“It doesn’t invalidate my reasons,” he answered, gravely serious in a way he rarely ever was. “It only pointed out the truth.” They stared at each other for a long moment, silence suffocating the room, and then Pepper let out a breath.

 

“Okay,” she said, but a smile was slowly forming on her face. “Okay, Tony. I assume I’ll be taking care of the transfer work then?” Tony held out his hands in a “who else?” gesture, but the matching smile on his face evidenced his happiness at her acceptance.

 

“Will that be all, Miss Potts?” he asked instead, a parody of their usual dialogue. Pepper quirked a grin and answered without missing a beat.

 

“That will be all, Mr. Stark.”

 

………………

 

They asked for time alone where he was asked if he was sure about his decision because this thing between them, this thing that happened, it didn’t change him—not for the worse anyway— _nothing_ had to change.

 

But he knew that they were being naïve and optimistic and patronizing because _of course_ things had changed. _Everything_ had changed. But the decision had been a long time in coming anyway. It was one he had made while he was still in HYDRA’s clutches, the day he accepted that he was never going to be saved (The fact that he _was_ saved didn’t change the soundness of his decision).

 

When they were convinced of this, they wrapped him in a hug and kissed him one by one, and then they moved from the meeting room toward the general direction of home.

 

Bruce tugged Tony along by the hand ahead of the others, engaging him in a subject matter only two super geniuses would understand. It was easy and comforting despite the fact that Bruce had him racking his brains to keep up with the conversation (the same way he did Bruce) because they both loved the challenge of keeping up with each other and exercising the limits of their intelligence.

 

Focused as they were on each other and little else, they were taken by surprise when someone grabbed Tony by the front of his shirt, jerked him away from Bruce and then buried them in a rather large crowd consisting of SHIELD agents and a multitude of civilians.

 

Tony would have fought back, _could_ have fought back, but then he scented it from the man who had grabbed him: a familiar, sickening stench that had his stomach rolling in disgust. And then he was pressed up against a wall, and a mouth was covering his, a tongue delving in uninvited. His wrists, while he was still motionless with surprise, were pinned against the wall beside his head, and a body pressed up against him from chest to knees. The other man was bigger than him, bulky, but not like Steve or Thor whose muscled bodies were pure elegance. This man had the elegance of a trucker.

 

Alpha 5-15.

 

“Mine,” the man snarled into his ear before attaching his mouth to Tony’s neck and biting down hard. Tony cried out in pain, but the bite served to rouse him from his stupor and struggle against the other man who was grinding against him and sucking the broken flesh of his neck.

 

It lasted all of thirty seconds before Alpha 5-15 was suddenly and viciously ripped from him by two big blurs. Tony couldn’t find out who those were because he doubled over and gasped for air to keep down the bile that threatened to escape him. Someone pulled him into their arms, and Tony struggled momentarily against them before recognizing the familiarity of Clint’s scent, and then he was being tugged away from the scene amidst the sudden flurry of activity, shouts of fury and panic, and moments later, the roar of the Hulk.

 

That was what pulled him from his own panic attack. They were in the middle of SHIELD, and there were civilians milling around. Bruce would never forgive himself if he hurt or, god forbid, _killed_ someone.

 

He struggled against Clint who shouted at him to _stop moving_ , but Tony ignored his command and broke free. They had already moved a fair distance away by then, so he had to run to get back into the fray, finding Hulk towering and roaring over Thor who was snarling at and punching Alpha 5-15, both sigmas incensed with rage. Phil was frantically shouting at Thor to stop and directing agents to pull him off. Natasha already had Steve pinned with two knives through his shoulders and into the wall far away from Alpha 5-15 even though she, like the alpha, was just as enraged as Thor. Tony ignored his leader for the moment and thrust himself between Thor and Alpha 5-15, aborting Thor’s next punch abruptly.

 

“Stop!” he yelled as he did, holding both hands up to protect himself just in case. His presence seemed to put a damper to Thor’s (and Steve’s and Hulk’s) flaring tempers.

 

“ _Move_ , Anthony,” Thor growled. “Justice needs to be met by this man who dares sully what’s _ours_.” Tony darted forward and wrapped both his arms around Thor’s waist, pressing a kiss to the god’s neck.

 

“Stop please, Thor. He’s—he won’t—” Thor grasped his hair to jerk his head to the side roughly, exposing the bite wound at his neck.

 

“He hurt you,” he snarled once more then bared his teeth at the fallen man. Hulk roared at the sight of the wound, and Tony had to pull himself away and nearly throw himself on Alpha 5-15 just so neither of the men would harm him again.

 

“It won’t do any of us any good if you kill him. _Please_ ,” he virtually begged. It allowed a moment’s pause long enough for SHIELD agents to pull Alpha 5-15 from beneath Tony and hurry him away. The area was suddenly quiet. In the corner of his eye, Tony could see that the civilians had been evacuated, and beyond his team, Fury, Hill, and several heavily armed agents, there was no one else left. “ _Please_ ,” he repeated for good measure, waiting for Thor to jerk a small nod, and then he walked up to Hulk, stroking his chest gently. “Bring back Bruce, please, babe? I need Bruce right now.” Hulk snorted and narrowed his eyes at him. Tony kept up the stroking, trying his damndest to project feelings of calmness toward him—whatever the fuck that meant, but he had heard it somewhere, and he decided that this was as good a time as any to test that theory.

 

Hulk wrapped a large fist around the wrist of Tony’s hand that was stroking him and then lifted it up as high as it would go. It wasn’t enough, apparently, because the giant crouched down so that he was eye-level with the genius, and then he placed Tony’s hand on his cheek. Tony gave him a smile and stroked his cheek before leaning over and pressing a kiss to the other one.

 

“Can Bruce come back now? Please?” he murmured, keeping closer to Hulk’s than he had ever been before, but he didn’t feel a single ounce of fear at that moment. “I promise we’ll play later, but Fury looks like he’s going to pop his other eye out, and we don’t want that, do we?” he asked, shaking his head slowly and grinning when Hulk mimicked it. He kissed the green cheek again and stepped back when Hulk rose to his feet. They’d seen Bruce turn into and back from Hulk several times before, so it wasn’t a new thing to see the green skin fade to pink and the muscles shrink as rapidly as they had grown. The scientist was a little out of breath and clutching his ripped pants (the shirt was a lost cause) when Tony darted forward and hugged him. Behind them, he could hear Steve wince loudly when Natasha pulled the knives from his shoulders.

 

“Meeting Room,” Fury bit out when the dust had settled. They were all a bit out of it to argue so they shuffled to the closest meeting room as a unit, Fury, Hill and Phil leading, Tony enclosed by the pack, and the armed agents bringing up the rear. “Can someone explain to me why the _fuck_ that happened?” the director demanded as soon as the door closed and the Avengers had taken their seats.

 

“Why was he here?” Steve demanded in return, rising to his feet and threat pouring out of him. Fury levelled him an unimpressed look.

 

“ _Because_ , Captain, he is a victim of HYDRA experimentation, just like all of you, and he deserves the same treatment you will all be receiving,” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. And then he turned to Hill. “What I want to know, though, is why he was out of the Medical ward.”

 

“He, and some of the other victims, volunteered to test the anti-serum. They were being transported to R&D when you crossed paths,” she explained. Satisfied, Fury turned back to Steve.

 

“Is this going to be a problem every time someone threatens Stark, Captain? Because if that’s going to be the case, I may opt to pull him from the Avengers Initiative altogether. In this line of work, something would definitely be going wrong if your life wasn’t being threatened constantly. You know that.”

 

“No!” Tony interrupted before anything further could be said. “It’s not going to be a problem, director. This thing... It’s a new thing, but we’ll work on it.” Fury narrowed his eye at Tony speculatively.

 

“You’d better be goddamned sure,” he warned. “I will not have you endangering lives out their, friendlies or otherwise, because of this.” He paused for a split second. “I _suggest_ you take the anti-serum as soon as it’s ready.” With that, he turned and strode from the room, Hill in tow and leaving only the seven of them remaining.

 

Phil approached Tony and tilted the CEO’s head to the side.

 

“Are you okay?” he murmured while holding out his hand. Clint handed him basic medical supplies the archer had gotten from god knows where: cotton balls, antiseptic and a bandage.

 

“I’ve had worse than this,” the billionaire answered, but he was purposely misunderstanding Phil’s words, and Phil knew it.

 

“You have a habit of doing that. Stop it. That’s not why I asked. _Are you okay_?” he repeated almost absently as he cleaned and dressed the wound. Tony gathered his words in the silence that accompanied Phil’s question. The agent was done by the time he’d figured out what to say.

 

“Fury’s right,” he said quietly. “We’re a danger like this in a way we never were before, even to enemies. You never—When people outside SHIELD get wind of that, they’re not going to be sympathetic. They’re going to be difficult on us; they’re going to crucify us. But the anti-serum can fix that, put us back to the way we were—”

 

“We’re not going to suddenly go on killing sprees because someone punches you, Tony,” Clint pointed out. “The bastard was _kissing_ you and rubbing up against you. He would have _taken advantage_ of you if he’d been allowed to continue. _Jesus_. We would have done practically that same thing whether or not we had the serum in us.”

 

“There’s always going to be people who try to push their luck with me, Clint. It’s a side effect of being Tony Stark.”

 

“And _that_ we can handle, but not him.”

 

“You didn’t see your face,” Bruce murmured softly from beside Natasha. “We’ve seen how you look with other people who try to push their luck with you. You tease them and push them away with a finesse and charm that leaves them feeling like they’ve gotten what they wanted. For the worse ones, you cut them apart and humiliate them with your wit such that you completely ruin them in front of everyone else. But with him, you looked... terrified.” Tony swallowed and looked away because that was exactly how he had felt, and he had hoped they hadn’t seen that.

 

“The anti-serum—”

 

“We aren’t taking it, Tony,” Steve cut in smoothly. Tony’s gaze jerked up to his in astonishment. “We’ve talked about it, and none of us want it.”

 

“But... But it’s going to put us back to the way we were.”

 

“We want _this_ more than we want what we had before,” Steve suddenly laughed humourlessly. “Which was precisely nothing—at least for me. What would I go back to, Tony? An empty apartment? Training at SHIELD? Lonely trips to the museums? I had _nothing_ before this, but now I have you. All of you.”

 

“Cap, you are _the_ most eligible bachelor in the world. You can just hint at it, and women—and men—will be _literally_ lining up to apply for the position of being your girlfriend or boyfriend or husband or wife,” Tony said.

 

“I already have you, don’t I? Why would I need to find another?” Steve asked with a tilt of his head. And then he frowned. “Unless you don’t want this of course...”

 

“I do!” Tony suddenly cried, jerking forward involuntarily. Steve beamed, and Tony coughed. “I mean. I do want you... this... us. But—”

 

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘why would you want me?’ I swear, Stark, I will stripe your ass raw,” Natasha growled. She was inspecting her fingernails casually, but that spoke volumes about the force behind her words.

 

The thing was she was spot on like always. He couldn’t understand what they saw in him, why they wanted to stay, but he couldn’t deny that it felt incredible that they chose to do so anyway, serum or no. He knew, from the start, he didn’t want the antidote, but that they too didn’t...

 

He looked at each one of them and saw only sincerity and desire on their faces. He didn’t deserve them, really, but who was he to deny them what they wanted? So until they told him to fuck off, he supposed he could give in to his own desires that perfectly coincided with theirs.

 

“Not what I was going to say,” he lied to her smoothly. “But, uh... Can you do that anyway?” Her answering grin was pleased and dirty in all the best ways.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorryyyyyyyyyyyyy XS I got hung up on the Cap-Ironman Big Bang (again), and a whole bunch of other fics. This has been a long time in coming XS I'll try to update quicker now that the BB's almost done ^^ Hopefully, I can make this up to you with a long(ish) chapter. ^^

Tony blinked.  
  
"Condoms."  
  
"Yeah, I know what they are. I have those.” A pause. “In bulk.” Another pause. “In all my homes.” A hum of thought. “And offices." He tore his eyes away from the pile of condoms Clint dumped onto his workbench to send a lifted eyebrow in said man's direction.  
  
"Oh, I know. Those were from just your medicine cabinet upstairs," Clint grinned, cocking his hip against the workbench. Tony's eyebrow lowered and knotted with the other at the sight of the sad tinge to Clint's grin. "What?" the archer asked.   
  
Huh. So they were going to play dumb.  
  
"We've fucked," Tony pointed out. "Several times. Numerous times. I think it's a little too late to worry about STDs—not that I have any mind you—and save Natasha, none of us can get—" He stopped.  
  
And then he realized why Clint had dumped condoms in front of him.  
  
His lover slid himself onto the stool beside him while he was busy processing that.  
  
"She can't actually," he said. That snapped Tony out of his reverie.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She can't get pregnant. The Red Room took care of that for her—menstruation and pregnancy kind of get in the way of being a good spy, you see?" Clint explained, staring into a distance. "And that's not yet counting Hydra's serum. So she's pretty much sorted for life." Tony frowned.  
  
"Won't she care that you're telling me this?" he asked. Clint shrugged then shot him a grin.  
  
"By virtue of our little group arrangement, I think she'll find it in her heart to forgive me," he said. Then frowned. "Maybe." Tony blinked for a moment more before Clint laughed. He nudged Tony's shoulder with his own before reaching out to pull Tony closer to him, then drew the genius into a gentle, sweet kiss that Tony had no problems permitting. "She'd want you to know. All of you, now that we're... well, this."  
  
"Okay." Tony's own smile felt a touch sad at the edges. "So the condoms are for me?"  
  
"Well, Bruce thinks other birth control might fuck with your new biology, so short of avoiding sex altogether, external control is our only choice," Clint explained, nuzzling and sniffing Tony's neck—a habit that all of them seemed to have picked up. And then he suddenly stopped and frowned deeply. “I mean, unless you want to get rid of the parts altogether, that is.” The frown perturbed Tony. It was sad, disappointed, a little bit worried, and a lot telling—telling in a sense that if he felt all that towards the thought of removing the organs, maybe he wanted them where they were…  
  
Maybe they all did.  
  
“I don’t know…” he offered because he didn’t. He didn’t know what to think about this, how to think about it, he didn’t know if he wanted to think about it at all. So instead, he avoided it. "And you're okay with this?" He gestured to the pile of condoms.  
  
"With what?" Clint pulled back, his eyebrow quirked. "With using those? With being able to continue fucking you indefinitely? With giving you some sense of control? Of security? With giving you a choice?"  
  
"Well…" Clint dragged him into a kiss, hard and rough and wet. He pulled Tony closer and trapped him in the vee of his legs, pressing their bodies together tightly. He cupped Tony's chin and tilted his head to the side to slot their mouths together better.  
  
"With you not bearing our kids?" Clint whispered against his mouth. Tony tried to step away, but Clint pinned him where he was. "None of us will force you into anything you don't want," he said with conviction. "Tell us you want it, and we'll fuck you to within an inch of your life. Tell us you don't, and… well, condoms." It was said so casually, but was so full of meaning—the admittance that they wanted this, so much more than Tony did—that Tony had to shut his eyes and drop his head onto Clint's shoulder.   
  
"I'm sorry. I just can't," he mumbled. “Not right now.” Clint ran a hand down his spine.  
  
"You have nothing— _nothing_ —to apologize for, do you understand? _Nothing_ ," he said, kissing Tony's hair. "But… would it help if you told me why? I'd… I'd like to hear." Tony stilled for a moment so that he could think about it, think about how to phrase it in a way that it would make sense to someone who hadn't been thinking about it for years.  
  
"Howard and Maria weren't the best parents in the world," he started, but Clint cut him off before he could get any further.  
  
"You aren't your parents, Tony."  
  
"And how would you know that?" Tony snapped. He tried to pull away, but Clint pinned him where he was, so he let it be for now. "How could you know that I won't turn out exactly like them: distant, absent, uncaring? They were my only role models; how else am I supposed to know how to be a parent? And besides, you know me, you know who I am—how I am. I'm volatile, self-obsessed, arrogant, careless. In what world does that translate into 'good parent'?"  
  
"'Were,'" was the only thing Clint said.  
  
"'Were,'" Tony echoed flatly, confused. Clint kissed him.  
  
"You _were_ volatile, self-obsessed, arrogant, and careless. You aren't anymore," he corrected. "You've been so good for us, I can't even begin to tell you how." Tony blushed slightly. "And not that I'm comparing, but I think Natasha trumps us all in shitty parentage, and I _know_ she's going to be a kickass mom." That thought was unexpectedly heartwarming. "And Bruce had a psycho for a dad, but I know _he's_ going to be an amazing father." Clint kissed him. "And even though I grew up in a circus, I'm gonna make damn sure I'd be an awesome pops, no matter what it takes." Tony grinned weakly. "All I'm saying is that you aren't alone in this. Thor and Steve and Phil might not understand where you're coming from, what your fears are, but Nat and Bruce and I know." Clint stroked Tony's cheek and kissed him again.   
  
"I know you aren't your parents the same way I know Natasha and Bruce and I aren't ours. We’re more than the products of our childhood simply because we refuse to be," he murmured. "I know you're going to be a damn fine dad because you know how a dad shouldn't be, because you have us to help you learn, but most importantly, because when the time is right, you're gonna want to be." Tony buried his face in Clint's neck to think about what he said—really _think_ about it—and for some unfathomable reason, pressing his nose to Clint's neck and just inhaling his scent helped him do just that.  
  
Clint, Tony was convinced, was halfway between profound and insane because he was right that Natasha and him and Bruce, when the time came, were all going to be awesome parents despite who raised them—Steve and Thor and Phil, too. But to even _begin_ to consider him as a viable candidate for fatherhood… It was laughable.  
  
They tell him he's so good for them, but they fucked him on a daily basis—they weren't objective, weren't rational. Underneath his desire to please them, he was still that arrogant asshole he was before all this, and no serum was strong enough to change that.  
  
And then there was the matter of the actual pregnancy and childbirth. How would that work? What are the possible ramifications? How about his company? Their missions?  
  
"I don't know," was all he could say. Clint kissed his hair and hugged him.  
  
"It's okay."  
  
...................  
  
When Tony came down to the living room the next morning, dressed in a suit with his tie hanging around his neck, he found Thor in a jeans and shirt and shoes, sitting on one of the sofas. He wasn't dressed _up_ by any measure of the imagination, but considering he was usually to be found in only a dressing gown when he was at home, it was fairly obvious he was headed somewhere.  
  
(Tony quashed the tiny, tiny voice in him that spoke jealousy of whomever Thor was going out to meet).  
  
"Headed out, big guy?" he asked casually, walking to the closest decorative mirror and fiddling with his tie in front of it. Happy was just around the corner now, five minutes till he arrived to take him to the board member's luncheon down at the Ritz where Pepper requested (demanded) his presence—he was, after all, still on the board. Through the mirror, he could see Thor stand. His clothes, Tony realized with a small sound of want, were about two sizes too small on him, stretching the t-shirt thin over his chest and the jeans tight around his legs. Clearly, whoever shopped for him also shopped for Steve who had the same problem, and Tony mentally took note to give that person a raise—he or she was an undeniable genius. Unless of course Steve and Thor dressed themselves which meant they were either closet flirts (which Tony hoped for) or completely clueless (which was more likely).  
  
Thor approached him, pressing himself shamelessly up against the length of Tony's back. He took the ends of the tie out of Tony's hands and bent closer to his ear.  
  
"Allow me, _svass_ ," he murmured, low and seductive, before kissing the shell of Tony's ear and derailing Tony's thoughts momentarily. So much so, that it was only when Thor finished that he realized the god had tied his necktie into a pretty little bow. The face Tony pulled was somewhere between shocked, affronted, and confused, and at the sight of it, Thor laughed. "I'm sorry, my love, I couldn't resist," he said and tugged the bow loose. Tony still hadn't managed to find the words to say by the time Thor smoothed the now-properly knotted tie down and gripped his hips.  
  
"Where'd you learn that?" was what he went with while Thor turned him around and pressed him into the hall table behind him. He was kissed, gently and deeply, and he could do nothing but allow Thor to take what he wanted.  
  
"Natasha," Thor answered before kissing him again. Tony parted his lips as soon as Thor's mouth pressed to his. He curled his fingers around the hem of the blond's shirt to anchor himself lest he float away. Thor dragged him even closer, pressing their hips together and grinding up against him minutely. It took a moment more for Tony to realize what he was doing.  
  
"Hang on," he said, and in an instant, Thor pulled away almost completely surprise growing on his face. "No, Thor—I—C'mere" Tony grabbed his hands and replaced them on his hips. "I'm sorry; I just meant we can't have sex right now. I'm headed to a luncheon. But afterwards? Afterwards is good." Thor chuckled and nuzzled Tony's cheek.  
  
"Of course, my apologies," he said and kissed the corner of Tony's mouth. "I had forgotten myself in light of your beauty." Tony pulled a moue.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say 'beauty,'" he said, even as he melted completely at the sentiment. "'Dashing good looks,' maybe or 'devilishly handsome appearance.'" Thor laughed.  
  
"Indeed," he conceded, not even trying to not sound patronizing. He took Tony's hand into his and led him into and through the hall. "Let us wait for Happy outside." Tony stopped.  
  
"Wait, what?" He blinked.  
  
"Phil told me to accompany you to your luncheon. To guard your body, he said." Tony blinked, but decided to ignore the odd phrasing on accounts of a more important matter.  
  
"No, wait. I have Happy. Happy's my bodyguard," he pointed out and regretted it when Thor gave him a hangdog expression.  
  
"You prefer Happy to me?" he asked, and Tony stuttered out a protest. "No, no. You are right. He has long been at your side to protect you, I understand. I just wished to be there to protect you should the need arise." He stroked Tony's cheek. "I undoubtedly would have done so, anyway; this only provides for convenience and quick response. But no matter, I am confident in Happy's skills."  
  
"Thor, wait," Tony said. "It's fine. It's fine. You can come with." Thor's face brightened, so Tony persuaded him down for a kiss. For a second he thought about asking Thor to change—it was a rather formal event after all—but no. No one was going to deny Thor entry over his attire—no one was going to _want_ to after seeing his physique so carelessly on display… Okay, wait. Maybe Tony was going to ask him to change after all.  
  
"Boss?"  
  
"Happy!" Thor greeted Happy with a huge hug, lifting him well off his feet. Happy turned purple before Thor set him back down.  
  
"Hey, uh, hey, Thor," Happy returned. "He's coming with us, boss?" Tony slipped his glasses on.  
  
"Apparently so," he said before leading the way out the front entrance where his usual town car was sitting. "Is Pepper frenzied with anger yet?" Happy sent him a look.  
  
"If she didn't know how to handle your perpetual tardiness by now, I think she'd have jumped off the deep end a long time ago." Tony glared at him over the top of his glasses.  
  
"Watch it, Hogan," he warned, but Happy only grinned.  
  
"Besides, once she sees muscles over here, I'm sure she'd forget her anger pretty quick," he pointed out. Thor grinned brightly, and climbed in the back seat when Happy held the door open for them. Tony neared to climb in after Thor when Happy thought to say, in a voice that was entirely too gleeful, "I just cleaned the car, boss. Just wanted to let you know." Tony genius gave him a poisonous glare, but was able to say nothing when Thor grabbed him by the waist and dragged him onto his lap. Happy chuckled and shut the door.  
  
"Happy just cleaned the car," Tony said, wriggling into a more comfortable position and definitely _not_ grinding into Thor. Thor's grin softened, and he pulled Tony closer for a kiss.  
  
"Indeed," he said. "Then we shall do your best not to sully the cleanliness of the vehicle."  
  
To Tony's disappointment, they did nothing more than neck from the short ride from the tower to the hotel. He would have settled for just a handjob, really, and he wouldn't have minded sucking Thor off. But they quickly pulled up to the Ritz, so not sucking him off: good choice.  
  
"We, uh, we aren't out yet, okay? Other people don't know about us," he thought to remind the god. "So I might flirt with you because they expect that, but you're going to have to keep us on the down low." Thor grew serious.  
  
"I understand," he said. "But know that I wouldn't want to hide you from the world. You're mine, and I am proud of that." Tony couldn't help the dopey smile on his mouth. Thor kissed him one last time and got out of the car first, holding the door open for Tony.  
  
"Thanks, big guy," Tony slapped him manfully on the shoulder then sauntered into the lobby like he owned it.   
  
They made their way to a function room where he could hear Pepper giving a speech in what Tony was now dubbing her "boardroom voice."  
  
"...looking forward to working with you," she said, and Tony chose that moment to stride in.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the best CEO this company is ever going to see," he announced like he hadn't been there for all of three seconds. Pepper gave him a look that, on the surface, said, 'You're late, Tony. What have I told you about that?' but underneath said, 'Thank you, Tony, but that was completely unnecessary. They know it as well as you and I do.' Tony grinned back a 'You told me that if I'm late for another function, you're going to put me in a cone of shame' and 'You're welcome.' She sighed and shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. "So, with that done, I'm thinking food, booze, and food. Or food, food, booze. I'll also accept booze, booze, food, or any combinations and permutations thereafter." The smile on Pepper's face only seemed to grow—and grow more evil at that.  
  
"I've opted for a nice sparkling cider for our meal," she said. Feigned horror stole over Tony's face.  
  
"Cider? _Cider_?! Kiddie juice, you mean," he said. "How can you even think kiddie juice is halfway acceptable for Muscles over here?" Pepper, and the rest of the board, finally took notice of Thor.  
  
"Well, if you'd have told me Thor would be coming, I'd have set aside an exception for him," she said. "Hi, Thor."  
  
"Greetings, Lady Pepper," Thor returned with a bow. Knowing him, he'd have knelt and kissed the back of Pepper's hand if he had been close enough. "And to all of you. Please do not let me intrude on your gathering. I have merely felt the necessity of accompanying our man of iron."  
  
"Yeah. Thor's taken up on himself to be my bodyguard for today," Tony said as he took his place on Pepper's right. There was a bit of commotion while they tried to fit Thor in the same table until one of the younger board members simply volunteered to move to a different table. Tony took note to give him a small bonus.  
  
"I'm still expecting you to give a speech," Pepper said over her meal. Tony waved the comment away absently while he helped himself to his meal. It took more effort than usual to focus on making his arms move because Thor's thigh kept brushing against his leg, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath the table and suck his cock. That thought necessitated another drink from his awful cider.  
  
When he could tear his thoughts away from that, he found the luncheon was particularly pleasant if only because of Thor's presence. He regaled stories of Asgard to the board members at his table, and those from other tables, stories which Tony had heard hundreds of times before (each one different, though following more or less the same theme), and yet he could still see the appeal in them. All in all, despite the mild annoyance at the men and women who practically hung off Thor's biceps, he appreciated the lack of attention on him. He never did want the board's, even before, but lately, he'd taken to avoiding all kinds of attention, even from those that he'd craved it from before. Save that from his pack, that is.  
  
"... I smote him with Mjolnir and sent his pack running back into the forests!" Thor was saying and a few of them applauded—fucking _applauded_. Tony turned an incredulous 'can you believe this?' to Pepper who shrugged in mild bemusement. If the board was happy, she couldn't really care less. "It was a fine battle," Thor said in a proud and satisfied voice. "Not one I would hope to recreate here on Midgard, but should it happen, I am sure Anthony and the rest of our teammates will prove worthy companions." A grin touched Tony's lips a split second before his phone rang.  
  
"Stark," he greeted, daring not to look away from Thor's eyes that caught his. There was a shine in them that made Tony's body tremble.  
  
"We're up," came Phil's abrupt voice. "Tell Thor to bring you home to suit up. Cap, Tasha, Clint, and Bruce are en route to Columbus Park. I'm already here with SHIELD."  
  
"Got it," Tony was saying before he could fully understand the situation. He stood and pocketed his phone. "Sorry, Pep. Duty calls." She adopted a pinched look that would seem like annoyance to any casual observer.  
  
"You've been here for all of fifteen minutes, Tony," she said, a frown of disapproval on her mouth, but that pinched look that others would have seen as annoyance spoke volumes of concern.  
  
"Fifteen minutes well spent," he grinned, and then, more seriously, promised, "I'll be back." And he knew she knew that he didn't mean the luncheon. She pressed her lips tight and nodded, so Tony allowed Thor to secure an arm around his waist and lift them up into the atmosphere.  
  
Flying without the suit was exhilarating, breathtaking. It catered to his senses beyond sight and sound. He could feel the air rush past him. He could taste the edges of the clouds on his tongue. He could smell the moisture in the air. He, for a moment, forgot that they were on their way to a mission—their first mission since coming back—and laughed brightly even as he buried his face into Thor's chest to shield himself from the wind.  
  
Thor wrapped his arm tighter around him and then suddenly spun into a corkscrew as they descended in a way he was sure to have seen Iron Man do so very often. Tony held on tighter and laughed in delight up until they landed on the correct end of the armor platform. He allowed Thor to kiss him once, long and deep, and let him go.  
  
"I'm glad to have brought you laughter," the god murmured. "And I shall gladly endeavor to do so often. But for now, our pack needs us." Tony grinned.  
  
"Good call. Let's go bail them out," he said and jogged down his platform at the correct speed. He heard the clap of thunder and saw the flash of lightning in his periphery which was sure to mean Thor had himself suited up, and then Tony was running off of the edge of his tower and thrusting himself into the air.  
  
For no more than a second, he missed the feel and taste of the air, but soon enough, the thrill of the flight took hold of him. He spun once, just to reacquaint himself with the armor that had become a stranger to him in the last few months, and then logged onto the team's commlink.  
  
"Incoming," was all he said as he closed in on them, his HUD flashing their positions. Clint was up top, as usual, and Natasha and Steve ground level. SHIELD and Phil had set up camp outside the standard one mile perimeter. That was where Tony found Bruce.  
  
"Tony," Steve breathed through the comm, half startled, half enamored, but he quickly found himself. "Iron Man," he corrected. Tony smirked.  
  
"What are we up against? Agent Agent wasn't so forthcoming about mission stats over the phone," he said instead, landing heavily a few seconds later beside Steve. Thor followed suit soon after just when Steve pointed towards a cluster of buildings.  
  
"We've got a rogue group of mutants breaking and entering into the District Attorney’s office. We've got no intel on what they're taking, but finding out is part of our job," he said, quick, efficient, and professional, but Tony was gaping at him before he realized Steve couldn't see his expression, so he lifted his faceplate and resumed his gaping.  
  
"Petty theft?!" he asked incredulously. "They called out all the motherfucking Avengers to solve a case SHIELD could have handled on their own if they could be bothered to _get off their collective asses_?!"  
  
"Iron Man," Steve warned.  
  
"Mutants aren't even supposed to be in our jurisdiction without the X-men's help! Next thing we know, we're going to have fucking Magneto breathing down our necks, spewing mutant-propaganda bullshit and using this to justify himself!"  
  
" _Iron Man_."  
  
" _Captain_ ," Tony shot back. "You can't seriously be thinking this is right. We're supposed to be 'a group of individuals called together to handle the things the rest of humankind can't.' This? This is bullshit right here."  
  
"Tony!" Steve snapped, his voice on the edges of a growl that made Tony want to crawl to his feet and beg for forgiveness.  
  
"The man of iron isn't incorrect in his reasoning, Captain," Thor pointed out, Mjolnir slung casually over his shoulder.  
  
"It's a test," Natasha answered for Steve. "They want to see how we do in actual battle situations—those mutants are not low-class mutants, no matter that they're bent on simple theft. SHIELD agents are already standing by all around us—whether as for them or for us…" She trailed off with a shrug. Tony clenched his jaw tight, and then released it. Then he snapped the faceplate shut.  
  
"Orders, Captain?" he simply asked. Steve gave him no more reprimand.  
  
"One of them's a teleporter. I'll need you and Hawkeye to locate him when he disappears. Hawkeye, when you can, take him out with a tranq. Once he does, Iron Man, try to find out what they've been taking. Widow, you're going to take the one who can control fire. Thor, you're containing the shifter."  
  
"Mystique?" Tony asked through the line as he jetted off.  
  
"No. Not as powerful. This one can shift only into animals," Natasha answered. She was already running into the fray at a speed Tony couldn't hope to match without the suit or decent agility training.  
  
"Hulk, you're on standby, but if you can keep an eye out and help us in any manner, please do."  
  
"Got it, Cap."  
  
"I'll handle the speedster."  
  
And with that, they moved.  
  
Tony could barely remember their last mission together, it was so long ago (and if he were being really honest, he probably hadn't been paying much attention then). But this right here—the way they fell into action at Steve's command, the way they moved and responded to each other, the way they moved in almost perfect synchronicity—it was nothing short of amazing.  
  
"JARVIS, scan the teleporter's biosignature and relay his coordinates every time he moves," he said as he lifted himself up above the skyscrapers for a better vantage point. JARVIS complied with nary a word.  
  
Initially, he announced only one coordinate: about halfway up the building, but then there was a sudden boom from what was likely the firestarter when he encountered Natasha, and then JARVIS was relaying another coordinate. "We've been found, Legolas. Prepare your arrows." Clint snickered.  
  
"Memes, Iron Man? That's not how that expression goes," he said, but Tony could already see arrows descending from his nest. JARVIS was relaying those coordinates faster now: once every thirty seconds… twenty seconds… ten seconds, precisely the speed to match Clint pulling an arrow from his quiver, aiming, and launching it. Tony watched the progression on his HUD, able to do nothing more than offer JARVIS's services. The teleporter's movements were erratic, popping up sometimes street level, sometimes on the rooftops, but as focused as he was, Tony could see a pattern that the teleporter himself probably didn't realize he was making.  
  
"Hawkeye, aim for the rooftop of Tribeca," he said. Clint questioned nothing. He did as told and, a split second, later whooped with joy.  
  
"Got him! Iron Man, pick him up and send him to SHIELD; I'll cover the others. Then get your cute metal butt back into action and get our intel."  
  
"Bossy, bossy," Tony shot back, but he was grinning inside his mask. He did as told, grabbing the mutant by his armpits and then flying him through the buildings and back to the SHIELD outpost.  
  
It was just at the edges of his sight, just out of reach while he was instructing JARVIS to check into the building’s security system, when suddenly— _BLAM!_ —something heavy blindsided him and sent him careening onto the street. He dropped his load just before they crashed, but himself tearing through the asphalt and slamming into the side of a building.  
  
" _Tony!!!_ " came several shouts of fear and worry.  
  
"I'm fine," he called back immediately even though his ribs were screaming in pain from the impact that sent him to the ground and the rest of him from the landing. “I’m fine. It was nothing,” he assured his pack who were professing varying levels of concern over his comm. He switched it off. " _Fuck_. JARVIS, scan damage."  
  
"Three cracked ribs, sir. I would insist you sit the rest of the mission out, but I'd be more concerned if you actually do."  
  
"Sassy," Tony said, as he staggered to his feet. "But correct." He suppressed a cry behind his clenched teeth when pressure was placed on his side. "Reduce torso flexibility around my ribs by seventy percent."  
  
"Your pack will be most concerned about your rejoining the battle in your state," JARVIS tried again even as he complied with the order.  
  
"Which is why we aren't going to let them know. Not until the mission's over anyway," Tony said. He started moving toward his charge. "What _was_ that anyway?"   
  
"I believe that was the mutant known as Juggernaut, aided by the one known as Vulture."  
  
"Fucking…" Tony growled, then snagged the unconscious teleporter by his ankle and flew them to SHIELD. Bruce was all over his suit as soon as he dumped the mutant onto the ground. "I'm fine," Tony tried to assure him.  
  
"Put the faceplate up, Tony, or none of us is going to be," the doctor warned, so Tony flipped it up without question. The green in Bruce's eyes slowly swirled away as Tony bent over to kiss him.  
  
"You're too hard on him," he admonished. "He knows not to hurt who he doesn't have to." Bruce looked like he wanted to protest when Phil cut in.  
  
"For the record, Tony's right," he said, making the genius light up in triumph. Phil shot him a glare that kept him from speaking. "But I'm sure this is a discussion we can save for later. Tony, are you _sure_ you’re okay?” he asked. In the face of his best ‘you better not be lying’ face, Tony found himself almost caving, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was now by telling the truth.  
  
“Right as rain, Agent Agent.” Phil narrowed his eyes for a moment longer. Then he nodded.  
  
“You're needed back in there."  
  
"Gotcha." Tony flipped his faceplate shut again, saluted, and took off in the general direction of his attacker.   
  
"Thor and the Captain are trying to contain Mr. Marko, while Black Widow and Hawkeye are subduing Mr. Toomes," JARVIS informed him.  
  
"Got it," he said. "Cap, Thor, stand back." Rockets popped up out of his shoulders and launched themselves at Juggernaut's helmet a split second after Thor and Steve jumped away. They were light arms, though (or lighter than Iron Man's usual fare), so they barely scratched the crude, but strong armor.  
  
"Iron Man! What the hell are you doing? We don't launch rockets at human beings!" Steve snapped.  
  
"Uhh, in case you haven't noticed, Cap, he's still standing. I hit him with car-busting missiles, and they've only tickled him into anger," Tony pointed out, and true enough, Cain roared and jumped straight for him. Tony managed to get another missile off, this one a little bit bigger, into his face, but Cain emerged through the blast unimpeded. He hit Tony at full momentum and slammed him into the ground some ten feet down.  
  
He couldn't have turn off his comm. before he screamed in pain when the Juggernaut's shoulder slammed into his stomach and ground him down into the ground.  
  
The pain was debilitating. He couldn't see past the white light clouding his vision, and his breath, when the scream died away, came out in short gasps. He couldn't even spare enough thought to realize Cain was pounding and pulling at the armor, intent on prying him out of it, unsuccessful only because Steve and Thor were holding him back.  
  
The edges of his vision started growing hazy, then black, and he saw Natasha jump onto Cain's back and stab his neck with one of Clint's tranq arrows. And then just before darkness overtook him completely, he saw Steve yelling at him, worry clear in his eyes.  
  
...................  
  
Tony woke up to warmth all around him. He couldn't move, not because of any restraints, but because of two bodies curled up around him and two more bodies curled around them.  
  
He held himself perfectly still as he peeled his eyes open, and then found himself looking up at the roof of his bedroom, to his great relief. He twisted his head slightly to his right and saw Bruce and Natasha, and to the left, he found Clint and Phil. All four of them were breathing evenly, their eyes shut—carelessly asleep, which was highly unusual for at least three of them, but which Tony could understand what with the way he felt a heavy protective gaze on all of them. Further away, Tony spied darkness streaming through the window—late at night then, or early morning.  
  
"It's three am."  
  
The whisper came from the foot of the bed where he saw Steve sitting in the shadows watching over them. His eyes were a glowing blue, lit by the light from the door where Thor stood sentry to an imagined threat against their injured omega. The serious mien on their faces was as strange as it was eerie, but Tony felt a shiver that was far from fear run through him. He extended his left hand to his alpha, jostling Clint out of his sleep.  
  
"No," Steve said, barely above a whisper, and Tony wanted to whimper a protest. "You aren't leaving that bed until you're ribs are healed." Clint leaned in close to kiss his neck, but Tony had eyes only for Steve.  
  
"Steve," Tony pleaded, and Steve said nothing. "Steve, come on. You can't honestly keep me in this bed for six weeks."  
  
"Oh, believe me. I could and would gladly keep you in bed indefinitely," he finally answered. There was a light in his eyes that told Tony he was talking about more than just concern for his ribs. "But I won't. You'll stay there until Bruce says otherwise."  
  
"Not six weeks, but not just yet," Bruce murmured sleepily, snuggling closer into Tony's injured side but taking care not to jostle it.  
  
"I've had fractured ribs before—worse injuries even. Just give me some Advil and coffee and I'll be fine."  
  
"Tony, you—and I only say this because I love you (and didn't _that_ make Tony's heart flutter in his chest like a particularly deranged hummingbird)—are absolute shit at taking care of your injuries, so listen to your alpha and do as you're told," Phil mumbled. His eyes were still shut, but Tony knew he was fully awake and ready to spring into action at any moment. Natasha hadn't said anything yet, but Tony was sure she was awake as well.  
  
"Well, if he'd give better orders, I'd be more inclined to listen to them," he said with a leer that cemented his meaning and intent.  
  
"No," Steve said, shutting down that option immediately.  
  
"Aww come on! I can handle being stuck here, but not without anything to do!" Tony whined.  
  
"I'll give you a blowjob when Steve isn't looking," Clint whispered in his ear. Steve was sure to have heard that, but he didn't even twitch.  
  
"Juggernaut didn't hit you that hard," he said instead. Tony froze.  
  
"Uhh… What?"  
  
"I've seen you take impacts from bigger, harder things. Juggernaut didn't hit you that hard, and yet you were shouting like your arm had been pulled off, and you cracked three ribs." Tony looked to Bruce, but the doctor looked just as interested in his answer.   
  
"I—uh…"  
  
"They were injured the first time he hit you." It was said not as a question, but as a statement because Steve knew.  
  
"Did JARVIS tell you?" Tony asked almost snidely. He was going to have _words_ with his AI.  
  
"He didn't have to. I'm not stupid, Tony," Steve shot back, rising now and exuding dominance that made Tony want to shrink back and apologize frantically. He didn't.  
  
"It wasn't a big deal," he tried.  
  
" _Three fractured ribs_ , Tony, and yet you didn't tell Bruce, and you rejoined the fight! You could have punctured a lung!"  
  
"But I didn't, and it's _fine now_ , Steve. Drop it!"  
  
"No!" Steve barked. Loudly. They all froze. "It's _not_ fine, Tony! You can't be this reckless anymore! You can't be this selfish—"  
  
"Why, Steve? Why not?" Tony snarled. He, lying down and injured, was challenging his very healthy, very angry alpha. "Because then you're going to lose your little fucktoy? Your precious baby maker? Your—"  
  
"That's not it, and you _know it_!" Steve yelled, and then, suddenly realizing that he was doing so, said in a softer voice, "Can't I want you safe simply because I love you?"  
  
"You don't," Tony said, softly, petulantly. "You don't love me. The serum—" In no more than a second, Steve jumped over him (Bruce and Clint moving back at the last second) and kissed him, rough and hard and a little damaging if the metallic tang of blood was any indication. He couldn't help but grasp at Steve's biceps where he caged Tony's head between them and dig his fingernails in. Pleasure curled low in his gut as Steve ravaged his mouth and claimed and claimed and claimed.  
  
"Do _not_ presume to dictate what I should do," the soldier snarled when he pulled back. It was an altogether terrifying sight, his conviction delivered with rage. "And do _not_ belittle what I feel for you." Tony had to shut his eyes and tilt his head back, back, back for reasons he couldn't fathom. He whined an apology, a plea, and dug his fingernails further into Steve's arms.   
  
For a moment longer, Steve's entire being held tense above him, neither granting nor taking, and then he dipped his head, ran his tongue down Tony's neck, and bit down at the base of his throat hard enough to make Tony yelp. He held on, gnawing and sucking on the flesh between his teeth until there was sure to be a welt when he released it. When he did, he kissed Tony again, gentler this time.   
  
"I love you… _We_ love you, and we're going to love you even when you no longer want us to, so _please_ stop worrying that we'll leave." Tony pried open his eyes and saw his pack sitting around them. The expressions on their faces said more than words ever could.   
  
"Even if… If I choose to get cured?" he asked. He shut his eyes, so he couldn't see their faces.  
  
"Even then," Steve promised gently. He kissed Tony's temple and said nothing for a long moment. For a long moment, he allowed Tony to bask in their love and attention. For a long moment, he allowed Tony to feel the bond that engulfed them. "And please stop trying to get killed. I'm ninety. My heart isn't what it used to be." Tony huffed a laugh.  
  
"I think my heart condition trumps yours, Cap," he said, and he didn't even have to open his eyes to know Steve was amused.  
  
"Cute," Steve kissed the tip of his nose and lifted himself off the bed. Tony suppressed a wince when he was jostled a bit. "I'm going to make breakfast. Anyone of you is welcome to help me with it." Unsurprisingly, Phil volunteered. Surprisingly, Natasha did. "And I recall Clint promising you a blowjob," he said to Tony almost as an afterthought. Clint grinned brightly.  
  
"That I did."  
  
"You're gonna be careful," Steve warned him.  
  
"Goes unsaid, Cap," Clint saluted.  
  
"Good boy. And Tony, you aren't going to move through it. Not a single motion, or else Clint will stop," Steve instructed.  
  
"What? No fair!" Tony exclaimed, indignant, but Steve only grinned.  
  
"We don't want you hurting your ribs over a blowjob," he answered as though he actually believed that, but Tony knew better.  
  
"Sadist," he muttered under his breath. He had no qualms at all that Steve heard it, and by the way the soldier's shoulders shook as he left, he knew he was right.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *so* sorry for the complete and utter tardiness of this chapter. If you'd been reading the A/Ns in my last few posts, you'd find I had been sidetracked by (1) the Cap-Ironman Big Bang, and (2) real life. But real life has sorted itself out, so I've done so too. 
> 
> Here's the next installment (I hope you haven't lost interest/forgotten about this just yet). Only one more chapter to go which I'm hoping to get up within the week.
> 
> I'm not planning on any sequels for this, but if you have particular things you'd like to know about the characters, verse, etc. I'd be happy to answer them here or on my [tumblr](http://renai-chan.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you, Sara, for the beta! ^^

They were happy.

No, really. They were _happy_. Tony was happy—the happiest he'd ever been—in a way he never thought possible.

He'd always thought he'd end up sad and alone until the end of his days with only Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy to mourn him—truly mourn him, not those fake tears and pretentious tributes the media and the general public seem to do when a celebrity passes. In all actuality, it was what he'd always wanted because no one but the three of them had proven themselves worthy of that right and shown themselves capable of that ability.

And then he'd been forced into this thing with his team, and he'd stopped wanting to be sad and alone and wanted this instead.

They loved him, and he loved them. They took care of him and let him take care of them. They were his teammates, his friends, his lovers, his family… his life, and he shouldn't have to want for anything else.

"You're thinking," Natasha murmured, stroking his cheek and then following it up with a kiss. She'd just managed to pull him out of a day-and-a-half inventing spree four hours ago and had stolen him away from everyone else by sneaking him past the living room and locking him in her room with her. There had been food and coffee—lots of both—on her table, so Tony realized he was starving. They both quickly ate before falling into bed. After that, there had been sex and cuddling—lots of both—and dear _God_ , how there was sex. Natasha _still_ didn't seem fazed in the least even after wringing three orgasms out of him. "You should be sleeping."

"Mm," Tony answered noncommittally. His eyes slid shut obediently, instinctively now. At two solid years and a handful of months after their pack had formed, he didn't even have to think about it anymore. Every word, every command no longer sparked in him panic, and fear, and worry warring with desire and obedience. Now he only felt focus and calm. And yes, desire and obedience still.

He wasn't perfect yet, no. Not by any means of the imagination. Probably not ever. But he was fixed, and that was the important thing. They'd taken what Schmidt had smashed—had ground to near dust, collected the pieces, and carefully rearranged them. Then, they'd painstakingly filled each crack and glued them together with the bond they shared.

 _Kintsugi_ , Bruce had called it once, had whispered it into the small of Tony's back. _It's the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold, creating a perfectly imperfect piece that is considered far more beautiful than the original precisely because of its imperfection_.

"It was a question," Natasha murmured against his mouth. She rolled on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck while she did so.

"Mmm… I think there should be a question mark in there somewhere," Tony slurred, mouth still lust stupid from their fuck and afterglow, but slowly regaining his snark, so Natasha bit at the sensitive skin at the base of his throat, pulling a gasp from him and melting his bones once more. She was a harsh mistress (in all the good ways), and when she put him under, she liked to keep him under up until she was done with him.

(Clint liked to take him after Natasha did and bring him back up out of his drop until he was trading insults and friendly jabs and the two of them were rolling off the bed with Tony's cock buried deep in Clint's ass. He and Natasha were a set pair, complimentary in all the ways that Tony was no longer jealous, but rather, enamored of.)

"I shouldn't have had to include one." Tony's legs fell open almost instinctively at her tone. She laughed and kissed him. "I'm not going to fuck you again, _Lyubov moya_. I think you're all fucked out."

"Clint likes that," Tony pointed out.

"True. But you haven't answered my question yet," Natasha answered.

"It's nothing important," was Tony's prompt response.

"Tell me," the assassin urged, her voice seducing his answer out of him. Once upon a time, Tony would have joked about fearing for his genitals while secretly actually fearing for his genitals. Now, he only rubbed himself up against her slit, moaning while he answered her.

"I was thinking about how happy we are together."

"Mm," she murmured, both in agreement and praise. "We are."

"And I was thinking about what we are to each other." Natasha murmured encouragement and kissed and sucked at his neck again. "And I was thinking… I was… about how I could never have dared to imagine, to hope of having this."

"You were never kind to yourself, darling." He was growing both hard and wet again beneath her, and every motion of his body brought him closer and closer to slipping in her and sating his burning lust. He wanted it; he wanted it _so much_. His hips moved nearly of their own accord to find that gripping heat, and his brain supplied images and sensations and emotions of what he would feel when he found it. It was only through obedient automation that he found himself able to continue at all.

"And about… about how there's something missing."

Natasha suddenly startled out of her seduction and sat up, eyes owlish and blinking in a way that they had rarely ever done.

"Missing?" she asked, hurt creeping into her tone (though she would have denied it to the death), but Tony was too lost to recognize it anyway, too lost to censor or carefully word his thoughts. He only nodded.

"I love you. All of you," he said. "And I would die without you, but I feel…" He stopped moving for a long second, then huffed, unable to find the right words. "Don't you feel it?" He opened his eyes and traced a jagged crack between her breasts. Her eyes dropped to his finger, motionless now, and then his gaze followed soon after. "Bruce called it Kintsugi, but I think it's not. Not yet. I think someone forgot to put the gold powder in the resin."

"What's missing?" Her voice was soft and careful, hurt around the edges but held there by the benefit of the doubt. Tony said nothing just yet. His hand moved to her back to pull her down on top of him completely.

They were happy. The happiest they could possibly be, and nothing had to change at all.

Except that finally… _finally_ , Tony wanted to be better for those who had fixed him. Finally, he wanted this as much as they did.

"We're going to have to work out a system because you are not benching me forever. God help you if you do," he warned, but the effect was much ruined by the bluntness of his voice. "And Fury's probably going to be _so_ pissed—we're probably going to have to name one of them after him." He laughed, but Natasha didn't follow. Instead, her eyes widened a fraction more and the hurt in them disappeared completely to make way for shock… and hope.

"Are you—you mean…?" It wasn't often that he could shake Natasha's perpetual calm collect, so Tony reveled in that. He cracked a tiny grin.

"Yeah," he said. "I think we can ditch the rubber during my next heat."

……………

Sex with them was always exquisite, but now it seemed even more so.

When he'd told the rest of the team, they'd been _ecstatic_ to say the least. Tony swore that Bruce looked like he might cry, and Steve… Well, if the way he was enthusiastically fucking into Tony right now was any indication, Tony supposed he could assume Steve was happy about it.

Steve gave a last thrust and an accompanying grunt before Tony felt his cock lock in, and he seemed to feel the heat of Steve's seed creep into him—it was a ridiculous thought, but then again Tony had always been exceptionally sensitive during his heats, and after nearly two years of protected heat sex, he was even more so.

There had been weeks of discussing this, months of planning for it, thousands of "are you sure"s, and by the time his heat rolled around, he wanted to chain each of them up and just do all the work himself (and hmm… not a bad idea at all).

But in all seriousness, he wanted this. He'd been wanting it for a while now, and had finally wanted it enough to go through with it when he suddenly found himself building remote accessibility into the suit's controls during one of the more intense moments of his most recent bender.

He was still scared—and wasn't _that_ the understatement of the year—but he knew, he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that his pack had his back on this. That he could trust them to keep his best interests at heart.

"God, Tony," Steve murmured into the nape of his neck where he was bent over and pressed to his back. Tony moaned a sound of acknowledgment around the cock in his mouth—Phil's—or maybe it was simply a sound of pure lust because Steve was still thrusting short, lazy strokes into him, and Phil was stroking his hair while he fucked into Tony's mouth at the same leisurely pace. "Are you sure?" he asked for the six thousandth time, and no really, this was getting ridiculous. He clenched as hard as could around Steve and reveled in the choked moan and hard thrust that accompanied it. Regretfully, though, he had to let go of Phil's cock to speak.

"Too late to back out now, Rogers," he said, so Steve bit him.

"Not backing out," he growled and shoved in hard, his knot catching in all the places that made Tony wail. "I wouldn't want to even if I could."

"Then stop asking will you?" Tony answered through a moan. He lifted his chin to steal a kiss over his shoulder before continuing in a whisper where he tried to convey all the sincerity he could. "I'm sure about this. I want it."

"I must admit," Thor said as he took Phil's place and pulled Tony up to his knees. He tipped the omega's chin up and leaned closer, his breath washing over Tony's lips as he spoke. "I cannot quite await the moment when you're heavy with child. I expect it would be a unique and beautiful sight." Tony parted his mouth, expecting a kiss, only to feel Thor lean over his shoulder to press his mouth to Steve's instead, and though Tony was mildly disappointed, watching the two of them (or any of them for that matter) trade tonsils was never going to get old. He grasped Thor's cock, lining it up against his own and thrust into his fist and up against the other cock. He was rewarded with a deep moan from Thor and a sharp thrust from Steve for his efforts.

"Well, _I_ expect he's going to pitch a bitch fit three days in that's going to last all the way through. Still trying to decide whether I find that cute or not," Clint said from the couch where Bruce was riding him.

"Screw you, Barton," Tony snapped. "See if I decide to bear any of your kids." Clint only laughed.

"I'll make it worth your while to reconsider, darling," he shot back.

And this right here—the sex, the banter, the love and affection between all of them—was perfect, was normal. This right here made Tony nothing less than confident that he made the right decision, that nothing was going to go wrong, and if shit did happen, he knew he'd have his family at his back all the way.

……………

"I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Stark."

Tony tried not to flinch or snipe at Dr. Connors particularly because it was he himself who sought the man out in the first place.

Connors had been put in a maximum security SHIELD prison for all of a year before being released for good behavior and in exchange for working exclusively for SHIELD (under heavy supervision of course). Mad scientist though he may be, he was still one of the most brilliant minds of the century, and Tony, Bruce, and Phil understood that. Natasha could be persuaded to restrain herself, but everyone made sure to keep Steve, Thor, Clint, and Hulk from crossing paths with him.

It was actually part of the reason why Tony approached Connors alone, but mostly he did so just to prove that he could.

To Connors' credit, in all the times that Tony had interacted with him, he was pleasant, engaging, and helpful. Nothing in his aura would suggest a sinister master plan lurking anywhere in his mind. Like now for instance. While Tony collected his thoughts, Connors merely fiddled with his test tubes, took down notes, and never once glanced in Tony's direction.

"Yes, well, that's the only reason I would be here at all," Tony finally answered, slipping his shades off of his eyes though he continued to hover in the doorway. Connors looked up and gave him a small smile that nonetheless reached all the way to his eyes.

"Then I suppose I should thank you for considering giving me the opportunity to tend to you," he said. Tony stared at him for longer than he probably should have, but in his defense, Connors' sincerity and openness was disconcerting even two years after—well, _after_.

"Just to be clear," Tony said, irked by the man's seeming capacity to dismiss what happened. "I would have had anyone else— _anyone_ —attend to me before you." He slipped into the room, but kept a good distance away from the doctor. "But as it turns out, all the best doctors are wary of messing with what they don't understand." Tony tucked his glasses into his coat. It was a subtle jab at him that Connors was sure to grasp, but the doctor said nothing, and neither did his smile falter.

"Dr. Banner could have easily taken my place," Connors answered. He slid himself slowly onto a stool, hands empty and open as if wary of spooking Tony.

"Yeah. He was my first choice, but apparently he still believes against treating friends and family."

"And spouses." It was said so easy, so factually, that the only response Tony was able to give was utter silence. Connors' smile was constant and easy, and Tony found himself staring at it, trying to decipher it, for a long moment. Then, he coughed and looked out the window.

"Well, yes."

"Mr. Stark," Connors said after an appropriate amount of silence had passed. "I'd be glad to have the opportunity to attend to your pregnancy should you trust me to do so." And there it was: the T-word Connors had no business uttering in Tony's presence, much less asking for.

"Why should I?" Tony snapped, cold now because this man—the man who tormented him when he ordered his rapes and watched them happen with clinical indifference—was asking for something reserved for friends and family and lovers, and sometimes not even then.

"Because I am a man of science, Mr. Stark, and if there is one thing you can trust in, it is science." Connors moved nothing but his mouth because he knew like Tony knew that one wrong move would send Tony bolting—permanently—from the room. "The only loyalty to HYDRA I held was in their ability to allow me to do what I needed to do to find what I needed to find. I couldn't have cared any less about them beyond that. But now SHIELD is offering me almost the same opportunity, albeit with more… restrictions—" The twist to his mouth was wry, as if he failed to understand why human experimentation was wrong. "—There is no need for me to rebel against that. And now, you are allowing me the opportunity to finish what I have been desperately wanting to finish—if you cannot trust in me, then trust in the thought that there is nothing I want to do more than bring a child of your bearing successfully out into the world. For science if for nothing else."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. There was no way—no way in _fuck_ he would trust this man, and even though there was no denying that if there was someone who would know what to do about his pregnancy and how to do it, it would be Connors, Tony would never trust him, not with his life and not with his family's life. That being said, he still needed Connors' help.

So he'd just have to be extra vigilant.

"All procedures will be approved by Bruce," he said.

"Of course," Connors nodded. It was much too eager for Tony's liking, but he ignored it for now. "Dr. Banner is a brilliant man and well-respected in the medical community, and not even for his other half. I would be glad to have his input." Tony nodded shortly.

"All medicines will also be approved by him," he continued. Connors nodded. "And all equipment by me." Another nod. "Save for today, any one of my pack will be present at any checkup and procedure, and you will take on an apprentice to take over should they prove to be sufficiently prepared. One specializing preferably in pediatrics."

Connors looked a little bit crestfallen at that, but Tony couldn't care less. He wasn't going to get his hands on his children—they weren't science experiments, so Connors could go fuck himself on that.

"Those are non-negotiable," Tony decided to inform him anyway.

"Of course," Connors quickly agreed with a nod. He stood and held out a hand to shake, but Tony only stared at the proffered hand disdainfully for a short moment, and then turned to leave.

That was the end of their discussion, and nothing more needed to be said, but when he had one hand on the doorknob, he found himself stopping.

"Did you feel nothing?" he suddenly asked, voice carefully and deliberately neutral.

Silence.

"Back then. Did you feel nothing when you ordered and watched them force themselves on me?"

There was only more silence for a time, then a quiet, "You, of all people, Mr. Stark, should now the necessity of distancing one's emotions from the matter at hand. But where you do so for the media and the public, I do so for science."

Tony gave no further acknowledgment as he twisted the doorknob open and stepped out into the hallway. But just before he shut the door behind him, he heard Connors speak again.

"I _am_ sorry, Mr. Stark."


	13. Chapter 13

Tony was in pain. Every bit of him hurt, though none more than his head, and the rhythmic movement shaking his body and the bright light digging through his shut eyelids were only exacerbating his pain.

 

He groaned loudly and wrapped both his arms around his face, willing everything to just _stop_ , but as per usual, nothing was going his way.

 

"For the love of god, would you _please_!" he cried, reaching out and blindly grabbing at two arms. The motions didn't falter, so he peeked open an eye to glare into two faces of pure innocence. "Sophia Margaret and Louis Nikolai, if you do not stop jumping on this bed, I will…" He broke off, finding nothing in his range of "punishments" suitable enough. "…So God help me, I will tell your papa!"

 

"Who do you think told them to do that?" came a laughing voice from the doorway. Tony lifted his head only enough so that he could see his eldest son, Liam, hovering there, and his second, Nathan, sitting sedately at the foot of the bed.

 

"Get up, daddy!" Sophia giggled impudently as she did another couple of bounces and sent more pain lancing through his head.

 

"Yes, yes, daddy, up, up, up!" Louis echoed. "We're going to grandpa's today!" It was only then that Tony remembered that important little tidbit, and he groaned again.

 

"Oh fudge, I forgot about that," he moaned, scrubbing his hands over his face while his four-year-old twins resumed their bouncing. "Stop it, imps. Please," he begged—begged! Because god help him if they actually listened to him.

 

Nathan was the easiest to deal with. He was obedient, soft-spoken, and quiet. At ten, he was surprisingly advanced for his age—emotionally, that is to say—although intellectually, despite all four of them being _well_ above average, Nathan was showing signs of being far ahead of the three of them, a veritable genius in the making.

 

Liam, at fifteen, was starting to turn into the sullen teenager he was expected to be. He shied away from hugs and touches, he argued back, he slammed doors and locked himself in his room, and he played music at obscene volumes. Clint, not just once, teased Tony of having impregnated himself and bearing Liam as a result (for which Tony would smack him). But one of the great things about Liam was that he never shied away from showing affection for his siblings—he _adored_ them.

 

The twins were a gift. They had been a difficult pregnancy that had Tony's doctor and medical staff moving into the tower permanently. Missions were near impossible, even remotely. The best he could do was supply intel and help solve problems from his bedroom. But then, they'd come out and endeared themselves to everyone. Sophie, in particular, had somehow utterly charmed Nick, and when those two were in close proximity, they'd be attached at the hip and ready to take on the world, to Tony's utter distaste (though not really because seeing Nick with a small blonde girl as his shadow was frankly adorable, but Tony had to keep up impressions). Louis, on the other hand, was baby to _everyone_ : his fathers, his mother, aunts and uncles, random SHIELD agents, Maria Hill. There was no one he wouldn't ask hugs and kisses from, and no one who wouldn't give them.

 

In his despairing musings, he almost missed a pair of lips ghosting over his naked belly before they pressed a kiss just above the waistband of his sweatpants where it was still socially acceptable in the presence of children. Tony cracked a grin, but kept his eyes shut—he didn't need to see to know who it was. Predictably, all the children went "eeew! Faðir!" and scampered from the room, leaving Tony—and Thor—in utter peace.

 

"I'm wondering if I should take offense to your displeasure at going to see my parents," Thor murmured against the skin of his stomach. Tony huffed a laugh.

 

"Of course not," he answered. "But after twenty… uhh…" He made a show of thinking. "…two? Let's go with twenty two. Twenty-two hours of engineering, and five minutes of bouncy blondes, I think I'm entitled to sound displeased about _moving_ let alone acting like a decent human being in social situations." Thor laughed.

 

"Okay, I'll concede to that," he said and then lifted himself up to kiss Tony properly. "Good morning," he murmured against Tony's mouth. "Steve asked me to come fetch you."

 

"First, the kids, then you? Steve should know better than to send me bubbly blondes in the morning. See if he gets any blowjobs at all this week." Thor chuckled.

 

"Even bubbly blondes who treat you with kisses?" he asked and kissed Tony to make a point. Tony grinned slyly when they pulled apart.

 

"Maybe if he send bubbly blondes who treat me with fucks," he said and this time Thor laughed his most boisterous that reverberated against the walls. "What? It's a legitimate suggestion," Tony followed up, all wide eyes and innocence.

 

"Indeed. But that only qualifies me, as Steve and Clint are hardly what one would call 'bubbly' in the morning." Thor kissed his nose then hauled him up into his arms. Tony wrapped his legs around his husband's waist and arms around his neck to keep his own balance, and from the bedroom, Thor juggled him to the kitchen while trading kisses and determinedly ignoring Tony's grinding.

 

He could have come just like that, rubbing up against Thor's stomach while the other lifted him, but Thor set him down onto the floor when they were just outside the kitchen door.

 

"Later," he promised and ushered Tony inside. Tony's eyes snapped to the refrigerator as he did.

 

"Get my child off the refrigerator, Barton!" he snapped rather viciously, if almost absently. He made a beeline for the coffee maker, but Bruce stopped him halfway there and held out a cup for him, so he kissed Bruce in thanks. But when he took a sip and found only warm milk in his cup, he made a face at the doctor. Bruce grinned apologetically, which didn't change Tony's expression in the slightest, though he said nothing.

 

"He's my child too, Stark," Clint answered, a grin on his face. Louis suddenly launched himself off the refrigerator, aiming in the general direction of the island, and once upon a time, Tony's heart would have jumped to his throat, but after fifteen years of it doing so, he'd unfortunately become accustomed to children jumping off refrigerators. Steve snagged the boy around the waist out of the air and placed him gently in one of the chairs beside Liam.

 

"Eat your food, sweetheart, mama made that especially for you," he said, kissing the top of his head. Louis brightened considerably more. Natasha didn't often cook, but when she did, her food was an undeniable hit. "And stop listening to pops." Clint looked horribly affronted.

 

"If you continue to allow them the means to sustain brain damage by allowing them to jump off things, I will revoke your parenting rights, Barton. See if I don't," Tony said from behind his cup, then grumbled, "It's bad enough when you do it."

 

He absently accessed the nearest computer terminal, the countertop beside him, and checked his mail. Three from Pepper requiring his signature, one telling him to eat and go to bed and that the schematics for production can wait till Monday because she apparently thought six people weren't enough to keep him in line (they weren't really because they were pushovers in the face of his most persuasive puppy-dog eyes and promises of blowjobs), two from Rhodey telling him he's coming on Tuesday for War Machine upgrades and _no_ , he does _not_ want to go to a strip club. _Jesus, Tony, don't you have like twelve spouses half of which are trained assassins and the other half superhuman, how can you even ask?!_ (He could because Natasha, Clint, and Thor liked to come with him from time to time. Steve, Phil, and Bruce only liked stripping when Tony and/or Natasha and/or sometimes Clint took to the stage). By then, he'd finished the last of his milk and absently reached for the coffee carafe.

 

It was plucked from his hands.

 

"No!" Tony cried, flinging himself to the side and trying to push his way around Steve's chest.

 

"No, Tony," Steve said easily, pushing the carafe away and trapping Tony against the counter with his arms.

 

On finding the carafe impossible to reach, Tony wailed, "Why is it that I'm being punished for getting pregnant? _You_ knocked me up—well, one of you anyway! If I can't get coffee, no one should." The alpha only grinned and kissed the side of his neck.

 

"You're right," he agreed.

 

"What?!" Clint yelped. "No he's not!"

 

"No coffee in the tower, no one drinks coffee ‘til Tony can," Steve said. Tony leaned over his shoulder and stuck a tongue out at Clint.

 

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Cap?" Natasha asked side-eyeing Bruce who was taking deliberately casual breaths. Steve released Tony (who then found his way to Thor's side) to take Bruce's face in his hands.

 

"You're alright, Bruce," he said and kissed his forehead, and then whispered as if none of them could hear him. "I'll sneak you some when you pull all-nighters."

 

"Not fair!" Clint whined, though at this point he was doing it just to be contrary. "I pull all-nighters, too, you know?" Steve sighed heavily.

 

"Doing exactly _what_ , Clint?"

 

"Well, all of you on most nights," the archer said, earning a whack from Natasha. Then from Phil who had just come through the door possibly to brief them on how they were going to get from here to Asgard (and yes, traveling with the entire family demanded _briefings_ , but Phil so loved briefings so they let him without putting up too much fuss).

 

"Welp!" Liam suddenly stood. "I am now officially put off eating for possibly ever. Thanks, pops."

 

"You're welcome, son," Clint grinned as saluted. Liam made a face at him.

 

"Come on, imps. Time to prepare for grandpa's," he said to his siblings. Their breakfasts were in various stages of finished, but the three waddled after him obediently like ducklings anyway.

 

"That's not ever going to stop being cute," Bruce observed, earning nods all around.

 

...............

 

Tony stared out into the glittering crystal and gold that was the Asgardian landscape. He was atop one of the highest towers at one of the windows, simply reveling in the breeze that stirred his hair and clothes.

 

"You are alone, my child," came a voice of pure silk and warm honey that made Tony close his eyes and smile.

 

"When you have six spouses and four children, you tend to want to be alone once in a while," he answered, then turned to the speaker. "Hello, mother."

 

Frigga, in all her resplendent glory, stood in the doorway with a smile to match his on her face.

 

"Hello, my son," she greeted back and crossed the room to wrap him in a hug and kiss his forehead. When she pulled back, she stroked his belly. "She's growing well," she murmured thoughtfully.

 

"'She,' huh? Sophie's gonna be jealous," Tony chuckled. "Might have to watch her teaming up with Nick." Frigga laughed.

 

"You might be surprised then," she told him. "She's as excited for this one as all of you are. I spent two hours listening to her talk about what she's going to do once her baby brother or sister gets here. She was very... imaginative" Tony laughed.

 

"Yes, well, seeing as only one of us is capable of seeing the future—and that someone certainly isn't me—I'll have to take your word for it," he answered.

 

"I think you should be more concerned about your children teaming up with each other," Frigga teased. "They're going to get their way whether you like it or not."

 

"Saw that in the future?" Frigga shook her head.

 

"Grandmother's intuition." She tapped her temple. They both shared a chuckle, and Tony allowed her to pull him into another hug, longer this time and surrounded by a profound sense of peace and belongingness that was only further enhanced when Frigga gently said, "Thank you for letting us be a part of your family." She always did when she managed to get Tony alone to herself and in her arms.

 

And as always, Tony answered, "No," and shook his head. "Thank _you_ for allowing me to be a part of _yours_." He kissed her cheek, took her hand into both of his, and turned back to the landscape. Then, for a short while further, they stood side by side and merely let themselves feel.

 

...............

 

Their calm silence was broken later by a hesitant "Tony?"

 

Both figures turned to the door to find Steve standing there, so Frigga kissed Tony's cheek.

 

"Do visit again sometime soon, love. I'd like for us to spend more time together," she said.

 

"I will," Tony smiled and bade farewell, watching as Frigga kissed Steve's cheek as she passed and put a blush on his cheeks. Then she was gone, and Tony and Steve were left alone. Steve quickly crossed the room and pressed a gentle kiss on Tony's mouth.

 

"They're calling us for dinner. Then we're headed home," he told him. Tony nodded, but made no move to leave, and neither did Steve. Instead the ex-soldier wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders from behind, and they looked out into the setting sun. "Asgardian sunsets always make you contemplative," he observed. Tony shrugged.

 

"It's hard not to become philosophical when you're staring at towers of gold," he answered. Steve chuckled an affirmative.

 

"What are you thinking about this time?" he asked. Tony said nothing for a long moment, but Steve didn't push, only held him close.

 

Eventually, with a deep breath, Tony found the words and the voice to answer.

 

"I was ready to die, you know," he said, then stopped. "No, wait… that's—I was ready to kill myself." Steve said nothing. "Back in the facility, I had it all planned out in excruciating detail. I had several plans laid out and the means to execute them. I had contingencies for those plans such that there was no way it wasn't going to happen.

 

"But then, you came." Tony stopped for a while more.

 

"I still thought about it. Even… even after. Anytime I thought about it, I would take out that very last gun I built—I made it after we got out—and stare at it.

 

"Then I'd think about you, and I'd put it back." Steve kissed his hair and hugged him tighter.

 

"Thank you for doing that," he murmured. Tony grasped one of Steve's hands and squeezed it.

 

"It's been years since I last took it out," he continued. "Not since a little after we had Liam." He had only taken it out then to see how he felt about it. "It's in the middle cabinet on the leftmost side of the workshop."

 

"Mm," Steve murmured noncommittally, but Tony knew he was already making plans to have it disposed of. "Are you happy?" he asked, and Tony nearly laughed. Of course he was, couldn't Steve see that?

 

But then he thought maybe Steve just wanted to hear him say it.

 

"I never thought I could be this happy," he confessed with all due seriousness, then twisted round in Steve's arms to give him a grin. "Though I think I'd be happier when I pop this one out and you let me back at my coffee." Steve suddenly laughed at that and kissed him. It was a teasing kiss that turned long and deep, and Tony had to wrap his arms around Steve's neck to keep from drowning in it.

 

"I'm glad for it," he answered when they parted and pressed their foreheads together. "We all are."

 

"Are _you_ happy?" Tony asked, but he had on a smile because he already knew the answer—he just wanted to hear it. Steve smiled and kissed him again.

 

"Without a doubt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that's a wrap!
> 
> This is one of my best fics, and I'm extremely proud of it. I probably didn't put as much attention in it as it deserved, but I hope I managed to do it justice anyway :)
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, and a biiiiiig thank you especially to those who commented. Reading your feedback is the best part of writing.
> 
> Lastly, thank you very much to Sara, my beta :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Love Without Doubt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854959) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton)




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